


the stakes are high, the water's rough (but this love is ours).

by anxiouspunk



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But Also a Bit of, Coming Out, Dating in High School, F/F, First Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, I made madeline and louise a lot meaner then they actually are, I wanted some fluffy teen romance song about falling in love for the first time at the center, Jealousy, Sexuality Crisis, Teen Romance, and, and what’d be like if they dated early on, as per usual, basically more of your favourite chaotic lesbian and disaster bi, bc that's really the theme here, bi!Rory, buffy references bc it's me writing this, but like one scene of them, get excited!!, here we go kids! it’s the big one!, i think that's all, just for the Drama(tm), lesbian!Paris, lots of, once more I don't know how to tag anything, taylor swift’s ‘ours’ for the title, this has been literally years in the making so I hope you like it, we've got it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: something like a miracle must’ve happened because rory says she does like her. actually likes her. nobody likes her. rory says she likes how brilliant she is and that’s she’s apparently funnier then she believes and her steel nerve, while aggravating, rory wished she could sharpen better for herself. 'I like your fire.' paris wouldn’t be inclined to believe her if rory hadn’t kissed her then and her heart hadn’t started singing in her ears. she’d left after that ‘cause her mother’s jeep was around the corner but paris wouldn’t lose the elation for the entire time left. she spent the rest of it rewinding how exactly rory smiled and how her fingers fit really well next to her own and dragging her finger over her lips.monday morning had come and shattered her bubble. now she was here and had to look rory in the eye after she’d held her hand and kissed her. after she (so stupidly) admitted she liked her. god that was an idiotic thing to do. why had she done that?!dammit. she’d been duped.----or, in other words, it's a chilton dating AU
Relationships: Paris Geller & Rory Gilmore, Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> Look at this! A 40k Gellmore fic I promised forever ago I finally finished up! Everybody ring the bells! Rejoice! It's happening!
> 
> No but really though, I'm excited for this one LOL I know I promised you guys a Chilton/early seasons-inspired fic, but I wanna clarify right now - this is NOT that. That will be a shorter fic I still wanna post hopefully at a later date. THIS fic, is actually about two years in the making; I had a problem of starting it, working on it, and then dropping it for a while, eventually going back to it, and repeat. It was, as you can see, this whole arc of a story I wanted to do that at times felt overwhelmingly long that I couldn't get over the metaphorical mountain - but I worked on it steadily in spurts till the point it just needed some basic scene fixes/tweaking, and voila! I fixed 'er up and managed to complete it. I will say, I do get mixed feelings on it; some points I love it, and then other points I think it's OOC garbage, so I guess it's up for y'all to decide - BUT, I am very proud that I actually finished it and got it to this point bc it was something of a passion project. Anyways, enough about me, onto the particulars!
> 
> *Something Important*: This is actually a sequel to my very first fic ('flirting with danger; playing with fire'), so it does reference some things in there. Not enough that I feel like you have to know the fic inside out, but if you haven't read that one yet or read it a long time ago, it might be worth skimming it (again) just so you get a full understanding of some references and etc. 
> 
> This does take place early in the show, but how early exactly? I couldn't even really tell you to be honest; I kinda just take free liberty with it (I'd say at least a season in, but, meh *makes iffy hand gesture*). I also remove/switch-up some other things too:  
> \- Got rid of Jess. Just wiped him completely.  
> \- Took out Lorelai/Max, bc it was just another thing I'd have to deal with narratively and tbh I couldn't be asked.  
> \- I mention Rory dating Dean but I see it's not super specific, so to be clear, this is a scenario where they went out for a while but were never actually Formal or Big Time  
> \- I also realize, right now, that I completely left out Rory's grandparents, they just totally fell off my radar, so..sorry if that's a disappointment to you LOL  
> \- Any facts or statistics put in here I literally just got off of Wikipedia  
> \- I don't mention Paris's parents divorce; I kinda just had them together when I needed them referenced or in scenes, so, you can just imagine this is them having to put up with one another before actually splitting.  
> \- I also made Tristan maybe a bit more of an asshole then he actually is, but honestly it isn't much of a stretch from canon. 
> 
> I think that's all the homework! You're free! Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: This isn't showing at the end notes for some reason bc god forbid AO3 function like a normal website - but if you're panicing, do not fear, there's a next chapter if you missed it; promise that isn't how I'm gunna let our girls' story end :)

paris was sitting on a mountain of nerves. 

needless to say, she was shaken up. she was standing at chilton’s doors about to go on twenty minutes of zero movement from when she’d arrived. deep down, she was scared. paris geller was scared. wouldn’t that be hilarious if it wasn’t so aggravating. she  _wants_ to go in and she  _wants_ her legs to work if only there wasn’t the one problem of running into no other then rory gilmore. 

it’d only been a day from the saturday date – and this wasn’t to say it was bad. not at all. infact, it was some of the most fun paris ever remembers having (funny, how that kinda stuff only seemed to occur around rory). they’d gone to the old, weird hartford theater and had watched the bizarre eighties movie where rory had shared her popcorn mixed with smarties, and paris got to hold her hand under the chairs despite worrying the whole time she might internally burst. they’d gone to the dairy queen after where rory made some concoction out of two different blizzards thet’d tasted like gold and they’d sipped it while playing a round of a newly made game,  _name the famous literary quote._ rory was the first to ever meet her match and even if she loved winning there was a thrill to actually having a worthy competitor. 

by the end, paris finally divulged her thoughts that while rory drove her crazy because she was  both  so beautiful and smart, she liked her. a lot. more then she would honestly enjoy admitting. it’s still a mystery why rory went on this date with her and even if she was the one to give her a valentine and kiss her first, she felt there couldn’t be a way rory would like her the same after all that’d happened – 

something like a miracle must’ve happened because rory says she  does like her. actually likes  _her._ nobody likes her. rory says she likes how  brilliant she is and  that’s she’s apparently funnier then she believes and her steel nerve, while aggravating,  rory wished she could sharpen better for herself.  _I like your fire._ paris wouldn’t be inclined to believe her if rory hadn’t kissed her then and her heart hadn’t started singing in her ears. she’d left after that ‘cause her mother’s jeep was around the corner but paris wouldn’t lose the elation for the entire time left. she spent the rest of it rewinding how exactly rory smiled and how her fingers fit really well next to her own and dragging her finger over her lips.

monday morning had come and shattered her bubble. now she was here and had to look rory in the eye after she’d held her hand and kissed her. after she (so stupidly) admitted she  _liked her._ god that was an idiotic thing to do. why had she done that?!

paris knew having romantic feelings involved a vulnerability that would be a downfall – well, if she was stupid enough to get mixed up in it. she always figured she was above that.

dammit. she’d been duped. 

she’d been  _tricked_ and now she was going to have to see rory again and discuss what this means. what liking each other actually means. paris  _knows_ they’re going to have to.

doesn’t mean she wants to however. 

she had to psyche herself up towards the doors.  _she wasn’t scared, she wasn’t scared._ if she ever wants to honestly spend time with rory again she was going to have to talk to her. in the end, the burning want to be with her and do dumb stuff like hold hands and flirt in literary talk again overpowered her fear to run straight back out. besides, what were they going to do? just go to class and pass each other in hallways and pretend none of that ever happened? that would be outright ridiculous. 

rory was reasonable. she could see that. 

or she hopes. 

paris makes it into the morning crowd ushering through the front doors, pushing her way through (people had a tendency to sort of leap out of the way when they heard her spitting to move it or lose it). she was considering her next plan of action when she sees the unmistakable brown head of hair bobbing through the crowd.

was it possible for a heart to leap up and crash at the same time?

‘rory!’ she yells overtop the chatter. she shoves her way past the many bodies, on her way to the brunette. she tries to keep her eyes on her, squeezing her way through, but it was hard through the thickness of the crowd. and apparently no one gets it when you tell them to ‘get the hell out of the way!’

‘rory!’

rory keeps moving away but eventually paris breaks free of the mass, sliding out. now, she sets her eyes out again, scanning – 

gone. 

dammit.

paris sighs; she despised waiting. but she really had no choice in the matter. she’d be seeing her eventually in english class (to both her relief and dread).

she goes to her first class, attempting to put this in the back of her mind to focuss on work. she tells herself, at least, she didn’t have to worry until later in the day. when that’s done and she goes to her second class, she sweeps the halls for rory.

where was she? due to chilton’s exclusivity, it didn’t have a huge population of kids. but she was nowhere.

second class is done. now it’s time for lunch, where she has the hour to find rory. surprisingly, it didn’t take long, because after leaving the classroom, she catches rory down the hall. 

‘rory!’ she yells, making sure she’s heard. she’s sure the brunette’s head came up, confident she was heard as she’s been told she has one of the those voices considered ‘brash’ and hard to ignore. she starts rushing over, busy shoving shoulders and people who think it’s okay to _linger_ in the middle of the hall. rory was right at the end of the hall, right before the stairs, and paris intends to catch her before there’s any chances of moving. 

reaching the end, she side-steps and rounds the corner, where rory had stood – 

gone. 

what the hell?!

paris  _swears_ rory saw her. so it wasn’t like she’d just moseyed on her oblivious way, especially with paris bolting right across the floor to get to her.

she’s not missing her. she’s avoiding. 

paris growls under her breath. of course. sadly, she couldn’t chase because there was a student council meeting  over lunch  to attend to. so paris (momentarily) gives in and heads the other way, left to fix that after. 

so lunch was blown, but english class was right after that. paris heads there as early as she can, intending to catch her. when she approaches the classroom, she can see rory already walking there to head in. she never goes this early; the lunch bell had only just rung.

a ploy to avoid paris once more, since they can’t really talk in the big classroom?  _possibly._

more determined then ever, paris bolts forward. this time, she doesn’t call or try to call attention to herself. that was clearly scaring rory off. instead, once she’s close enough, she snatches her forearm. there’s a startled peep but paris doesn’t let down, instead dragging them off to a corner, only slightly shielded from fellow classmates roaming around.

‘ _paris,_ geez...’ rory sighs, once she can tell who her kidnapper is ‘god..honestly, tell me now if I should just start expecting these kinda greetings so I don’t have to undergo constant heart attacks..’ 

‘you’re avoiding me.’ paris gets right to the chase. rory stalls to process.

‘w-what?’ she fumbles, sure gaze suddenly flickering elsewhere ‘no, I just haven’t seen you..’

‘yes, ‘cause you’re _avoiding me.’_

‘do you have any _evidence_ of this?’ rory proposed, arms folded, clearly not loving being constantly accused of things. 

paris growls low in her throat.  _technically,_ she doesn’t. she guesses, that wasn’t  _entirely_ the point; right now, she finally had rory’s attention, and they needed to bring it back to the matter at hand.

‘ _whatever_ look – we have to talk about..this.’

‘this?’

‘ _this!’_ paris gestured rapidly between them ‘you know, unless you want to awkwardly skirt around each other for the rest of our high school lives because we refused to acknowledge what happened this weekend.’ 

the nervousness written over rory suggested that maybe she  _did_ want that.

‘I-I know, we should, um..’ she glances through the hall, across the many bodies busying by ‘though uh, I’d say the hallway isn’t the most inconspicuous place to have this..’ 

‘true. lord knows everyone here likes to make nothing into something and treat gossip like it’s currency..’ paris slits her eyes, watching the moving crowds for any extra unwanted attention ‘plus, I imagine this is going to be a more thorough conversation then can be done in a two minute interval..’ 

‘you really think of everything..’ 

paris decides to ignore that, spinning back to her ‘you know the south side parking lot?’ 

‘yeah?’ 

‘meet me there. after school ends, at the front entrance.’

‘oh.’ paris watched her folded arms collapse, taking a deep breath ‘y-yeah. I can do that.’ 

paris sighed out involuntarily. that was a relief. at least she didn’t have to wrangle this conversation in; again, she knew rory was reasonable. she stares up at her, wondering what she should be saying now. rory had styled her hair today, the ends done in curls that her mother probably did. so, of course, she’s looking far too nice, cute, the day paris has to talk with her and make direct eye contact. and it’s not like she can even tell her that so all paris does is stare and huff to herself. 

‘good.’ was all she got out ‘don’t be late.’ 

rory raises a single brow ‘I’ll try not to chalk up any bad demerits...’ 

paris doesn’t have a come back for that because she’s too focused on her stupid hair. on how pretty she was. god, this really was a bad situation wasn’t it? she grips and ungrips the strap of her bag and doesn’t know if she should say anything or just how to end this stupid conversation but either way they were probably going to be late for class if they don’t –

‘yourhairlooksnice.’ she mutters as she pushes past her, quick on her run out. 

she just barely missed rory’s mystified half-laugh. 

the rest of the afternoon goes by tortuously. paris throws herself into school work so she doesn’t have to overthink, or think at all really, on what she was going to say. it doesn’t work. rory’s in her head, continuously. as was her pretty smile and laugh and their book debate and the way she kissed – and how much paris wants to keep that.

though when the final school bell finally rings, she still isn’t confident how to  _verbalize_ it. does she bring up another date? or do you just head straight into relationship? surely there was a process to this. 

she was the first to arrive at the entrance point of the parking lot. no matter. everyone’s still filing out and rory was probably lollygagging anyway. 

so she waited.

and waited.

and waited.

when the minutes lagged on and became more and more,  past five then past ten and then onwards,  it was hard not to panic. hard not to overthink. hard not to believe that rory lied.

for once in her life, paris was begging to be optimistic. the teacher just wanted to talk to her. her mom called her. she just...has a lot of homework to put away in her bag from her locker and it’s slowing her down. 

but soon no one could lie anymore because no amount of homework could withstand this long, no teacher would take this long. soon optimism just became lies and then lies couldn’t even do it. it started dawning on her in the most horrible way.

rory wasn’t coming.

it was a lie.

it was a lie and a trick and now she’s standing here holding out her offered, newly broken heart like a fucking fool. 

paris can feel herself start to shake and tears prickle because it was a  _fucking rouse._ rory was playing her. she just wanted paris to look like an idiot standing out here on a glimpse of hope and then have that hope shatter as her last trick. 

she only pretended to like her. 

honestly, what was paris even thinking? that the girl she’d been nothing but horrible to would suddenly turn around, all smiles and doe-eyes,  _yes, yes I really like you!_ no one has ever liked her, doesn’t she remember?

paris spins herself around and stomps to her car.  _idiot, idiot, idiot, you’re a fucking fool._ she rushes away from there and the thoughts of rory and how she’d seemed so earnest and the way she’d blushed when paris described how far she’d fallen for both her brilliance and beauty. the sure way she’d wrapped her hand in hers and how paris had really believed her when she said she was amazing for who she was. the way she kissed her like it was every answer paris had been looking for. like she could fucking fly if she wanted to.

once paris knew she was safely hidden inside her car, she, this time only, let tears come crashing.

-

paris is just trying to move on from this mistake as fast as possible. 

yesterday had been embarrassing and awful enough. and the last thing she wanted to do was remember it in any way, to let her heart be crushed any more then she would let on. so when she marches up to school the next morning with a look on people knew to avoid, rory standing at the front entrance throws a wrench into those plans. 

of course. the girl had wedged herself into paris’s life, and every time paris had tried to shake or scare her off, it’d never worked. why would this be any different? rory was clearly idling around for her; leaning out on her toes, head whipping around and snooping corners. she wasn’t sure what the point of waiting there was – maybe just to get back at her one more time. the one thing she’s really learned about rory, is that she’s twice as stubborn as she was. she wasn’t moving from that post.

you know what? she’s sure there has to be an unlocked back door.

paris spins on her heels, stalking off the opposite way. just her luck though, rory catches the blonde head from the corner of her vision and springs into action.

‘paris! wait, wait –’

paris hears the sudden scurry of shoes hitting concrete, getting louder behind her. she  grumbles under her breath and picks up pace.

‘leave me alone.’ she hisses. that would usually be enough of a warning for any sensible person, but it’s yet to work on rory. meaning she undoubtedly felt a hand go over her shoulder, tugging her back, 

‘please, I just wanna explain –’

‘and say what?!’ paris rips her arm off, spinning back to show her snarl ‘what more could you say that didn’t tell me enough yesterday?!’ 

rory at least has the audacity to look uncomfortable. a shamed head ducking down, she  shifted between her feet and stumbled out,

‘I just..I’m sorry, really, I-I..I got...’ 

she glances up their mingling peers, odds still trickling in from the parking lot. there wasn’t many but a few were interested in the potential argument nearby, eager for whatever it was the ‘enemies’ had to claw at each other over now. paris rolls her eyes at them – at the whole thing really. she wasn’t interested in being any further let down or insulted by rory so she plans to just walk around, except that even if rory was too nervous to speak with ears around them it didn’t mean she was going to give up entirely. 

she snatches paris’s hand and starts running them around the side of the school. paris makes as many protesting noises as possible, tugging her arm away but rory has a surprising grip. she takes them all the way to the back in a corner of the cobblestone building nestled in bushes, guaranteed where no one would go.

‘okay,’ rory puffs after her run, spinning them around ‘..you just gotta hear me out..’ 

‘I don’t have to listen to anything!’ paris countered. she stomped to the side, around, but rory jumped in front, paris making a strangled noise. 

‘ _god,_ you are so..infuriating!’ 

‘I know you wanna hear what I have to say.’ 

‘no, I don’t!’ paris lied. her curiosity might be nibbling a bit, but in the end, salving whatever was left of her dignity and bleeding heart was more important. 

‘frankly, I’m tired of you wasting my time gilmore! I’m sure this game has been _loads_ of fun for you, watching me walk straight into the trap and lose, but now that it’s done I’d like to get on with my life!’ 

‘..w-what??’ rory blubbered, confusing screwing up her face. paris’s eyes roll back.

‘stop playing the fool – I can’t be duped twice alright?!’

‘..paris, I-I don’t – _what_ are you talking about?!’ 

‘ _stop that!’_

it was one thing that rory tricked her already, but it was another that she was trying to pull the wool over her eyes a second  time.

‘I mean whatever the hell it is you’ve been planning! trying to give me smoltzy poetry, pretending to be all sweet and genuine, taking me on dates, saying you like me – well the jig is up alright?! I guarantee you, I looked _very_ lost yesterday idling around and finding out you weren’t coming unlike how you promised!’ 

rory turned quiet. something of shock or guilt crashed over, making her look very crestfallen. commitment to her part, anyway, paris had to give her that.

‘...you think I was trying to trick you?’ 

‘I don’t think, I _know!’_

‘paris, that-that’s not true! I-I just got scared –’

‘like hell! just stop trying to insult me gilmore, I know when I’m being lied to!’ 

‘it’s _not_ a lie! I like you, I swear, I only –’

‘ _bullshit!_ you’re full of bullshit!’ 

by now paris was getting upset. it was enough she’d entertained that the girl she liked liked her back. that someone actually  _did_ like her at all. how rory had brought her up on that hope only to drop her hard on the ground. now she was trying to rub the mistake in paris’s face, dangling the loss over her head to mock her for  _whatever_ scheme she’d been planning. that she was taking her already crumbling heart and squeezing whatever left she could get out of it.

rory had quieted again. she never lost her stubbornness though, keeping a  secure lock on paris’s eyes the whole time, a sure expression on. 

‘..I _never_ lied to you.’ she said, quiet and steady.

‘ _oh_ alright, I get it – the gimmick isn’t over yet! what else do you want me to do then gilmore?! huh?! you want me to just lay down on the ground and let you walk all over me?!’ paris’s throat has started to tighten and it showed in her voice, the watery glint over her eyes ‘did you not do enough?! you want me to simply rip my heart out of my chest so you can grind your heel into it one last time?! _is that it?!’_

rory clearly didn’t have an answer to that. she finally breaks the gripping gaze, ducking it away as she glowers. paris saw her swallow thickly, her chest rising as unsteadily as her own. paris could only glare and try to wipe away any wetness around her eyes –  _well that’s just great._ if that was it then, paris did her best to collect herself, breathing in to put her iron cloak  back on.

‘if that’s the _end_ gilmore, I have a class I should be getting to –’

‘I’m _sorry.’_

it was too earnest to be a lie. rory had raised her head again, and there was bleeding guilt coming off of her, blue eyes open and blinking up at her.

‘seriously, I am – I’m sorry paris. I didn’t even think of that and I didn’t want you to feel like that – but, you _have_ to trust me on this. I _never_ lied to you. I like you and it wasn’t some bait for whatever scheme you’ve created in your head, I _swear.’_

paris stalls. she probably shouldn’t. she had a big enough cut after falling for the first trap – she couldn’t even imagine what would happen if she fell for this too. but her heart was fickle and stupid and at the end of the line it wanted rory. it wanted her to like her, to kiss her.

‘why should I believe you?’ she hissed. rory stalled again and that didn’t do too much to help her case, huffing and stomping in her spot. 

‘because..because you-you just _have to!’_

‘oh I just have to! fantastic, _great_ debate skills!’ paris rolls her eyes again, more convinced this was a waste of time ‘you’re going to have to try harder then that!’

‘like what?! I _do_ like you paris!’

‘no you don’t!’ 

‘I do so!’ 

‘prove it to me then gilmore! prove it’s not a lie – that you _actually_ like me! ‘cause right now all you look like is a liar –’

rory grabs her collar and slams her lips over paris’s. 

much like the encounter in the janitor’s closet, paris has little time to react to rory’s lips on her. to the fact she was  _kissing_ her. but inevitably, paris stops every usual inclination to do the logical thing and melts into her to kiss back because her elated heart was speaking louder. 

she can read rory’s nervousness like a blaring alarm, and generally, she’d take that as a sign. but despite it her kiss was  _sure._ it might've been anxious and a bit awkward but rory was kissing her like it meant the world, leaning in close and fingers clutching her collar releasing to slip over her shoulder. it spoke all the words she couldn’t physically get out. it spoke  _everything._

slowly, she peels back before either of them start getting light-headed. rory doesn’t let go of her immediately, keeping her eyes just below paris’s and breathing shallow, like paris was doing. for the first time in her life, paris didn’t have anything to say (that she could find anyway). so it was good when rory spoke instead. 

‘I..I got scared..’ she whispered, flicking her eyes to paris’s in intervals ‘I..I didn’t really _get_ what this meant. like..I-I’d never thought I’d like another girl..that I’d be...’

‘me neither..’ paris offers. now, rory finally looks at her.

‘so, I..I just freaked out and ran to hide before I had to meet you yesterday. I felt awful and I did come back to look for you but you’d gone..and I..I spent all last night guilty and worried and unsure – but, you know, it-it forced me to think, and I..’ 

she pauses to gather courage, paris thinks. slowly, she reaches down and boldly takes paris’s hand, never breaking her eyes away. paris feels her heart drum erratically and with rory so close, she worries she might be able to hear it. 

‘I think..how I feel about you is bigger then how scared I am.’

paris gapes. she wasn’t just imagining this, was she?

‘so..so, um, if-if you want – and you don’t have to..after what I did, but...if you still want to try..um..I like you a lot, so..’ 

paris tilts her head, watching and calculating. rory was spilling her guts out for her and it took nerve to try, especially through the shaky words and anxious movements.

paris knew, then, she had to figure out how brave  _she_ was.

seconds tick and paris fights her conscious and rory holds her breath but then the brunette feels fingers tighten around her own. 

‘..you owe me another date.’ paris mumbled. it was enough for a shy smile to creep over rory’s lips, causing paris’s already out-of-drum heartbeat to nearly beat through her chest. 

‘okay..’ she whispers back, clutching her hand. paris, finally, risks a little smile back.

that’ll do for now. 

-

the second date is at rory’s house. they were going to watch some stuff – actually, that show  _buffy._ it’d started when paris spotted a button clipped to rory’s bag that read  _I’m a Slayer. Ask me how!_ after she’d told paris it was from  _buffy_ and that resulted in confusion, rory quickly demanded she had to see it because it was apparently atrocious she’d never had ( _‘you can come to my place – I have all the episodes recorded so far!’_ ). it was very tame. just some t.v at rory’s house. 

paris is so fucking nervous. 

rory makes her that way. it’s totally  infuriating – though by now, she’s sort of made her peace with it. or she’s on her way, at any rate. and she has been to rory’s house. she’ll watch t.v, on the odd occasion.

she has no idea what the hell you wear. she ruined her entire bedroom searching for something, only settling on a nice sweater and jeans. was she suppose to bring food? she didn’t know. how she wished there was some kind of instructional manual –  _first dates for dummies._ first  _relationship,_ even. 

her mom is really weird. she’s a really weird mom, not like any other kind mom paris knew. really, she was more accustomed to caretakers and nannies, from other family friend’s kid birthday parties she’d been forced to attend, then moms, but still. when she arrives, she greets her with that same sweet smile rory must’ve inherited, and asks her how life is treating her. paris has always been bad at small talk, but lorelai’s magic ability to pull funny quips out of nowhere and ease the room certainly helped things. 

at one point, rory had gone upstairs, leaving just her and lorelai in the kitchen while the mother continues mundanely putting dishes away and paris was so anxious she could tear her skin off. 

‘so kid, how’s school?’ 

paris whips her head over. lorelai is smiling at her and paris is trying to see into it, pull it apart, but she can’t. maybe that’s because it was sincere. 

‘school?!’ 

‘yeah. you know, that big building where they force you to write essays and learn an unreasonable amount of math you’ll never use?..’ 

‘oh.’ right. she breaths heavy and her nails dig in from where she’s folded her arms ‘it’s..fine.’ 

‘fine?’ 

‘ _yes.’_ paris slurred, nails biting harder. did she not sound it? did lorelai think she was a liar?! did rory say something to her that it was going badly?! oh god. water turned worry starting rising over her head.

‘I-I mean it’s _good,_ it’s, well, _busy,_ but you and rory talk so I imagine you probably knew that – of course, obviously, that’s _why_ I go there as I want to get the best education possible and one shouldn’t spend their time just idling on mindless t.v or what-have-you so I’m not sure what the point of me saying –’

lorelai’s hand wraps around her arm and paris jolts, finding her  expression  somewhere between sweet concern and being utterly befuddled. 

‘kid, relax.’ she tries to smile, only wavering from worry ‘you’re gunna pop a blood vessel..’ 

paris exhales heavy ‘sorry..’ 

‘s’ok. I don’t trust anyone who’s not at least a little afraid of small talk.’

paris will take that. rory comes back to her great relief. they have to to start prepping for dinner and when paris asks what’ll be served, lorelai says,

‘ _we’re making the gilmore special!’_

‘ _what’s that..?’_

‘ _we’re ordering two large pizzas!’_

so they do – it’s this cheesy, crust stuffed thing, and both mom and daughter look at her funny when she tries to cut it up with a knife and fork. it’s more calories then paris thinks the human body should intake.

but she likes it. she likes rory’s house; it had pictures were the family was all together and they actually smiled. it was warm and it had nothing to do with thick walls and the cold weather outside. later lorelai will come up  to where they were watching buffy in rory’s room, holding two items behind her back and grinning to ask them what they thought she was holding. 

‘it’s either a lost treasure map or the heads of your fallen enemies.’ rory smiles. paris honestly can’t tell if she’s joking. 

‘good guesses! paris?’

‘uuhhh..’ paris stalls, oh-so-lost ‘..is it more pizza?..’

‘that’s actually pretty good. but you both lose! for it’s actually..’ she grandly, reveals two ice cream cartons and smiling like the cat who caught the canary ‘the two last cartons before they were swept up!’

rory gasps like it’s a lottery win, grasps with flexing fingers for the desserts. lorelai hands one to her daughter and the other to paris. 

‘here kid, hope you like it – the chocolate was all gone, but this is caramel with brownies which is arguably, way more exciting.’

‘um, yes..’ paris slowly takes the carton, awkwardly balancing it between her legs ‘thank you ms. gilmore.’

‘thanks mom!’

‘hey, thank durecell for making their batteries last as long as a fruit fly I had to make a run to salvage the remote.’ she says, clasping paris on the arm ‘and lorelai works so much better – ms. gilmore is my father.’ 

she grins easy and throws in a joking wink for good measure before she slips out and giving paris a chance to say anything.

she likes lorelai.

she likes  _buffy_ too, turns out. they chugged right through the first two episodes and she guessed it had a couple typical, t.v tropes about teens. and xander was a complete idiot. but she really can’t remember a show that had a girl protagonist that was unforgivably powerful and bad-ass. 

‘it’s certainly making much further strides then any other show.’ paris says, scraping out the frozen, milk treat ‘buffy makes for a pretty good lead.’

‘right?! I mean, I do love willow, but buffy is just..like..’ rory was smiling a particular way, maybe adoration, with how much her gaze was sparkling ‘she’s just the _coolest_ of them, she’s the best, and like..arguably way prettier then cordelia anyway..’

paris snorts dryly ‘wow gilmore – if she wasn’t fictional, I might have to worry about competition..’

‘w-what?..’

paris raises a brow. 

‘oh, well, m-maybe..’ she smiles, a bit sweet and a bit nervous, snow cheeks up in red, and paris thinks if there was a picture for the word _precious,_ it would be what she was seeing right now ‘I-I dunno, if...if you’d said so maybe before, I totally wouldn’t have believed it, but now..everything’s kinda different..’

‘right..’ paris replies, watching her hand stir the spoon around the almost empty carton ‘..speaking of which, by the way, now that you mention it..’ 

_now that you mention it._ funny. as if paris totally hadn’t been festering over this since rory swore,  _I like you, I do, and I wanna try for something._

‘what’re..what’re we doing?..’ paris poses. there’s a nervous quiet wonderfully juxtaposed with the heightened music suspense and chaos of buffy fighting vampires in _the bronze_ (paris had several questions as to how teens were frequent-goers to an actual club, but rory refused to give her a real answer).

‘w-what do you mean?’ rory asks, paying more attention to her ice cream then anything. paris eyes nearly roll on their own. 

‘don’t try and be coy. you know exactly well what – I mean what’re _we_ doing? what..what is all this?! is-is this for real or are we just going to like each other secretly and kiss in hidden places?!’

‘well, I think –’

‘I guess my question is do you want to date me or not?–’ 

‘I do.’

paris had been holding the spoon so tight she could bend it but she nearly drops it from pure surprise alone. 

‘r-really?’ 

‘yeah.’ rory’s eyes crinkle at the sides, head tilting ‘I thought..I made that obnoxiously clear earlier..’ 

‘well, you know..’ paris huffs, going back to stirring ‘you never explicitly said anything so don’t put that on _me..’_

‘alright, so, do you want to..too?’

paris furrowed over at her ‘you have to  _ask?’_

‘well you wanted to ask me –’

‘yes, gilmore – probably too much..’ 

‘oh. good.’ rory declared, going back to her own carton ‘..well that was easy..’ 

paris still wasn’t totally content. s _urprise surprise._ possibly it had to do with that afternoon of hopes and heart toying with excitement, waiting in that parking lot for it to be true only to find rory had gone and stolen all her hopes with her. 

that she was never meant to be completely liked. 

‘you’re..you’re sure?’ she posed again through a stilted voice. 

‘ _yes.’_

‘because if you have any doubts then you should say them _now –’_

‘paris –’

‘instead of pretending any different ‘cause I know who I am and people are hardly ever _sure_ so I simply want you to be confident –’

rory shoots up and kisses her. her lips are slightly cold form the ice cream, but still, are soft and feather gentle. paris can taste the slight caramel too. she fumbles to remember to kiss back and altogether forgets what she was saying and she knows her face is way too hot. 

when rory pulls away, she’s grinning again. the world’s a little faded to paris. 

‘..that’s three times.’ she finally managed. 

‘what?..’

‘that’s three times now, you kissed me first.’

rory blinks back. paris huffs aggravatingly; for all the brunette’s smarts, she missed stuff paris was sure was clearer then crystal.

‘I haven’t kissed you yet.’

silence. then rory started smiling brighter.

‘no one’s stopping you.’ she said. so simple like she’s explaining basic addition, or that red and blue make purple. paris only sits, discontent and contemplative. 

noise from the t.v cuts them off. rory spins and gasps like she’s seen some kind of cosmic feat, starting to get inhumanely excited. she’s pointing to buffy while all paris does is continue to stare at her mouth. contemplating. 

‘oh! this is the best part, you gotta watch this, buffy ends up tricking that luke guy and –’

paris leaps forward and kisses her. she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing so it’s short, but she feels the way rory sharply inhales when they connect. when she kisses her back, paris swears she can almost feel her blush too.

paris is half tempted to bolt right out of there when she pulls away. what if it was bad? what if rory didn’t want her to kiss her?

the other half manages to look back at her. she  _was_ red and some bangs had fallen over blue eyes and she’s thrown but not like she was upset. rather, the opposite. 

‘...you missed it.’ was all rory could say. paris might’ve found that amusing if she could focus on anything but her own warm haze and the caramel on her lips.

‘..I think I’ll live.’ she whispers back, for it was ridiculous for rory to think, that even with thrilling t.v suspense, paris could focus on anything else. she, and the shy smile, were the loudest thing in the room.

rory rewinds and makes her watch it anyway. 

it was, paris had to agree, the best part of the episode. 

-

this dating thing was complicated.

one could argue it was because paris loved making mountains out of molehills. it was a skill she was especially good at.  _catastrophizing._ it didn’t help that she was going on zero experience in the field; only spur-of-the-moment kisses and  _no_ past relationships.

it was a comfort that neither did rory, really. she had a bit from the handful of dates and times spend together with that dean character before they were broken up but that was it. she was a broken record about it in attempts to make paris feel better. nevertheless, and to no surprise, she was optimistic about it anyway.

‘ _don’t worry about it so much – we can figure it out together.’_

together. paris liked that idea. really liked it. 

so they took baby steps into the relationship pool – really, more of a sticking-your-toe-in-to-test-out-the-water-first. they still didn’t talk much at school – they spent more time after. rory was complaining about her geography project so paris gave her insight and they spent time at the gilmore house discussing and after, treating themselves to ice cream where paris marveled at the monstrosity of toppings rory made of hers and she mocked paris for daring to put healthy fruit on hers. most were phone calls because now that rory had stuffed paris’s arms with every recorded episode of _buffy_ after the second date, she was calling to leave her review and they’d proceed to talk for a while after. 

it was a little embarrassing, how much they actually had in common that paris had dismissed firsthand to drag rory into a fight before  even knowing her. they were different in personalities sure but, they flowed on nearly the same wave length, clicked in a really bizarre way. for once, paris wasn’t going to dig into it.

but school was different.

they were free to be whoever outside the walls which made study sessions so easy, but inside, the laws had already been laid down. putting aside the times were they’d collaborated enough to come to each other’s levels, they’d been duking it out for quite some time now. people knew them as enemies – or, maybe, frenemies if paris was being lofty about it. she’d made it loud and clear how she felt about rory to any listening ear. mostly to her so called friends, who were the flintstarter for this problem in the beginning. 

paris had no idea how she was going to bring this up to madeline and louise. she  _certainly_ wasn’t going to tell them she had a massive crush on the girl she’d made a nemesis, having kissed her with plans to absolutely do it again. she’d rather drive a knife through her heart, thank you very much. both her and rory had unanimously spoken that  _they_ were never to be mentioned to anyone because that would be suicide. but even simply bringing up the topic that her and rory had laid down their weapons, and  _turns out she’s not totally the worst,_ was an undertaking she felt dubious to handle. paris knew those two and they were certainly going to wedge their noses in her business with every question of  _who, how_ and  _why?!_

rory had been declared an enemy. regardless of how they had to work together and the concert she’d invited them to and whatever  else. there was no taking that back now.

so she let her friends degrade her now girlfriend and just bit her tongue. she didn’t  _instigate_ it anymore at least, and whenever the topic of rory comes out and the hissing gossip starts, she tries to redirect them as inconspicuously as possible. still, they persist and paris has to hold down every remark back that they knew nothing. it wasn’t like she ever enjoyed it. 

she just didn’t know how to break the bubble. 

rory doesn’t really say anything about it. sometimes she asks why they can’t just all hang out during school and paris will toss it away with how dull her friends really are and four is a crowd anyway, causing rory to quip  _it’s three_ but she leaves it alone at least. she knows paris’s groupies degrade her in secret, and sometimes even openly, rory glancing across halls and rooms to see them sniggering and sneering as paris wears a look that can’t be placed. she’ll look away and they won’t talk about it later but there’s always a lingering quiet, something paris can see rory’s holding back.

it came to a head when madeline went straight up to rory to ask since her mom had stopped  seeing medina, when was she gunna take her shot with him; something that’d caused a good uproar from their classmates. paris had tried to find rory later, ask her to hang out maybe at the library to smooth it out, but rory had refused, saying with sarcasm made of ice why would paris want to bother with her when she was  _apparently arranging dates with medina_ and would have no time for a side relationship.

‘ _christ, gilmore, they don’t mean anything by it. they simply don’t have anything better to worry about, apparently, then spewing out rumours.’_

‘ _I don’t care! the fact is paris, you never do anything about it!’_

‘ _why do I have to?! if your ego is so wounded, you do it!’_

‘ _I have! but they’re_ _ **your**_ _friends, and frankly, if I had friends who were treating the person I liked like garbage, I’d put some sorta stop to it!’_

‘ _god rory, you –’_

‘ _so make up your mind. either you actually do something, or..or I-I can go! because I’m not interested in_ _putting up with being talked down to!’_

she’d stormed off at that and left paris to fume. and resort to deciding what her next move was going to be. 

she’d be madder if she didn’t find rory refusing to let anyone tear into her rather admirable.  ~~ and attractive. ~~

it was the next day now and the bell for break had rung, meaning the three of them were hovering outside their class before heading towards food. rory just happened to be across from them at her locker and now, she stands at a crossfire. once more, she was going to have to see how brave she truly was.

paris soon enough starts hearing the whispered venom of madeline and louise as they degrade the girl, breaking through her torment of thoughts.

‘god look at her, so obnoxious.’

‘thinks she’s better then everyone.’

‘it’s all show though.’

‘oh yeah – probably for _tristan_ no doubt..’

paris tried not to snort.

‘you know I heard she broke up with that hick boyfriend.’

‘ _really?’_

‘oh yeah. he dumped her.’

‘go figures. she’s so plain.’

paris grits her teeth together. she’s still watching rory stack her books, becoming more and more fond of the way she handles them with such care.

‘she probably bored him into breaking up with her.’ louise grinned.

‘bet you it’s because he wanted head and she’s too goody-goody to give it to him..’ madeline snickers. paris rolls her eyes back far enough to see her veins. rory must’ve heard the gossip, head bent back slight to get a quick look. when she meets paris’s uneasy gaze, she quickly flicks them away.

‘they probably couldn’t even get to _first base.’_

‘guess we’ll see which guy breaks her first to get her in the janitor’s closet –’

paris stomps past them, all the way to rory. she feels eyes melting her back; madeline and louise, confused by the abruptness but eager to see what she might do, and other meandering students, dull and stupid enough to hang around for a potential fight. 

paris lands beside her, staring right at her to get her attention. rory curiously brings up her eyes, blinking baby blues that settle into paris, make home in her, curious to see what she might do.

‘hi.’

‘hi..’

long pause. paris bites into her cheek, all too conscious of everyone watching, sitting at the edge for what could happen. another pause. she can sense rory finishing up her packing, ready to be on the move if paris was just going to waste her time.

fuck em.’

‘do you want to get lunch with me?’ 

it blurts out of her mouth, slurred and damn clumsy. rory spins  around to her, hair flying back. she might’ve imagined it, but she swears she hear  madeline and louise’s eyes pop out from their skulls. sure, her and rory had made some niceties in the past, but both of them knew paris well enough to be shocked that  _she_ would be the first to approach with claws retracted. what happened to declaring her the number one enemy? what happened to never letting her in and therefore letting her win?

‘lunch?..’

‘yeah. we can go to the library.’ paris persuades, getting another idea to up the anti ‘..I’ll get you one of those marshmallow brownies from the cafeteria too, if you want..’

she’s blushing. fuck. her cheeks are hot over worrying that that sounded like some kind of flirtation. instead, all that happens is that rory  _brightens._ blue becomes  electric, and – the thing that always  jump starts paris’s heart – she starts to smile. 

‘you sure know how to sweet talk a girl.’ she jokes. or maybe not. there’s a bit of pink over her cheekbones. paris finally cracks a smile, weight soaring off her shoulders.

rory closes her locker and together, they make their way down the hall. people are eyeing them. they’re eyeing each other, speaking a collective  _well that was weird_ because paris geller just approached rory gilmore when she  _wasn’t_ frothing at the mouth. paris hears madeline confusedly squeak her name, almost a screech to call her back –  _what the hell was she doing?_

paris doesn’t see, or hear, them. rory’s talking to her about finally starting  _ulysses_ and she’s getting that light, excited peak she gets in her voice when she talks about books. 

-

4:30, and paris was ready to be going home.

student council went about as well as usual. she enjoys debates on the school and what more they can do – if only more then .5% of them took it seriously. really, one more half-joke about soda in the water fountains, and she was going to loose it.

no matter now. she was strolling out to the parking lot, keys scrunched in hand and plan to get home to start on her math booklet. maybe she might watch more of buffy. it was weird because no other piece of media had ever pulled her in enough to not immediately prioritize work, or to where she’s completing episodes on the regular and calling rory at eleven at night because  _what do they mean angel is a vampire that’s the tropiest trope of them all and buffy_ _**cannot** _ _ date him that-that has to be a rule with her slayer duties! _

she would’ve considered further if the head in the corner of her eye hadn’t caught her attention. 

rory’s sitting on the curb. just sitting there. all innocent school girl, she might as well be twiddling her thumbs. the bus that goes to her backwater town would've come by now.

she’s too curious to walk away. 

so she walks up. 

‘what’re you still doing here?’ 

‘oh – hey! um, well, the bus..never came. I don’t really know where it is. I’ve been trying to get a hold of my mom, but I’m not really getting anything...so..’ 

‘she’s not answering?’ 

‘it’s just not going through..’ she takes a couple more stabs at that clunky cellphone, paris raising a brow. 

‘and you didn’t see the bus come?’

‘not unless I went temporarily blind, no, it didn’t come today.’ 

‘well that’s just ridiculous. I don’t know how the hell anybody puts up with public transit!’

‘well, you know, us blue-collars make do..’ rory mumbles, closing her phone shut ‘I left a message on mom’s phone, but since she or the hotel won’t pick up, I’ll just..wait and see if –’

‘you will not.’ paris leans down and grabs her arm, yanking her up as rory scrambles to meet her ‘that’s absurd, having to wait around here while it’s cold because some bus didn’t feel like coming –’

‘what-what’re you doing –’

‘well I have a car..–’

‘oh. you-you sure? I don’t mean to –’

‘rory.’ paris spins around, staring her down ‘it’s march. it’s cold. they’ll close the school soon. _I can take you.’_

‘oh, well, great, if it’s not too much trouble –’

paris groans, eyes rolling back. she grips tight around around rory’s wrist and marches them to the car, not minding rory’s quiet peeps behind that she  _ can  _ walk by herself.

she doesn’t have many passengers ride with her. she’s taken madeline and louise occasionally, but now that they’ve officially scorned  her after she made peace with rory, there’s no more of that. she’s already nervous, side-eyeing rory as she slips into the seat, glancing around the spotless interior.

‘...it’s nice.’ 

‘you don’t have to say anything.’ paris mumbles, turning the keys to hear the immediate engine rumble ‘..it gets me here and back anyway..’

‘you don’t like it?’ 

‘it’s _fine.’_

‘did you pick it?’ 

paris sighs. since when did car trips involve so many questions?

‘my parents.’ 

‘ah. well, what would you have wanted instead?..’

‘ _jesus –_ I don’t know, I’m not particularly _up_ on car models!..’

‘oh, I’m totally imagining you in a hot pink convertible.’

paris snorts, rolling her eyes again. she turns her head back, foot on the pedal so they can back out of here –

‘par.’

but she catches the bright blues staring at her first. par. she’d taken to calling her that lately. paris had scoffed first –  _ my name’s only five letters, is it really that hard?  _ but she secretly, and honestly, loves it.

rory’s smiling now like she always does. the yellow she constantly bled could almost make paris sick if she didn’t find an inexplicable love in how rory brightens. the brunette reaches across, tentative with nerves, fingers bumping into her hand. 

‘thanks..for this..’

paris is uncomfortable with sincerity; she didn’t know what to do with it. in the end she simply shrugged, eyes out the back window to ease out the lot. 

‘it’s fine..’ she claimed. when she could finally take her hand off the gearshift, she let rory link her pinky around hers.

the drive was mostly quiet; thankfully, rory wasn’t interested in talking the entire time. she asked her about the radio and if she plays any stations, where paris says she mostly listens to the news. o _f course you do_ rory had said but paris was learning that when it was said with a grin, it wasn’t meant to be a cut. rory later gets a call back from her mother. 

‘ _no mom it’s okay, tell luke he doesn’t have to come. paris is giving me a ride...yes...yes really...yes, willingly, even..’_

paris tried not to overthink that. 

they have to stop mid-way for gas, going off the road to a little station that looked like it hadn’t been cleared out since the sixties with it’s chipped sign, faded posters of animated hotdogs and slushies, and name brands of candy paris doesn’t even recognize. she pays at the counter and when she’s done, she finds rory off by the stands near the door even though she told her she didn’t have to come in, sliding quarters into a cryptically old trinket machine – the one you put a coin in, turn the knob, and out comes a gumball or keychain. 

‘why are you putting money in that?’ she demands.

‘I thought it was candy, maybe gumballs, but I think it’s just trinkets..’ rory picked up the egg shaped capsule from the slot, peering through the clear side. 

‘..that still doesn’t explain why you’d waste your money on that.’

rory makes several attempts to open it. apparently they welded these together better then hot metal, paris watching her try to pry the two sides apart with white knuckles and eyes squeezed shut. 

‘god, they’re really making kids work for their toys –’

‘here, give it to me –’

‘no I got it –’

‘you obviously don’t –’

‘well, stop, just give me more then a second to –’

‘rory, here, you’re –’

‘ _just wait –’_

‘ _you’re not doing it right –’_

_pop!_ the thing exploded, sending trinkets flying as rory scrambled to catch what was inside before it hit the floor. she holds it close in her hands, peeling back to see what she got.

‘see? wait, there’s..two?..’

‘well if you’re going to waist your money, might as well make it worth it..’ 

rory held up a  minuscule silver chain by her two fingers to the light. paris can’t even tell what it is. it was some kind of fluff attached to a keyring with googly eyes glued onto it.

‘...I take it back.’ 

‘mm.’ rory hums her agreement. she picks out the bonus item from her palm, hand extending out to paris.

‘here, you can have this one..’ 

paris was confident she did not need, nor want, any cheap dollar-store-worthy junk. it wasn’t even cute when she was the appropriate age for it.

but then rory grasps her hand  and  she’s too busy being nervous and worrying over sweaty palms to refute it. rory pulls at her pinky finger and slides something over it, which wasn’t the keychain-shoved-in-her-palm she was expecting. 

she pulls away so paris can look down at whatever was glinting off her hand. it was a plastic ring. painted gold around the  sides, and  rim, of the turquoise heart  glued  in the middle. the lightweight gave away how obviously fake it was. even the heart wasn’t quite right, oblong and kinda shriveled on one side. 

‘there.’ rory chimes, spinning the excuse of a keychain around her finger ‘now we’re both set.’

paris holds up the ring, the heart that was misshapen and out of place. it didn’t fit quite right but neither did hers so it was nice they matched that way. 

\- 

they make the library their place. thankfully, the chilton library is big enough it has pockets you can sneak away to and never be found. they go to the upper floor; the geology section, specifically.  _just boring enough,_ rory had smiled. paris thinks it’ll do. there’s a kind of spoken map to the library, which spots are the make-out spots and where someone supposedly got a handjob, so she knows to stay clear of those. 

it’s where they start going every lunch. paris walks right over from her algebra class, stomping up the steps and buckling down into the corner, against the wall between the old shelves of books that smell like dust. it’s closer then rory’s social studies class, so she’s always first. it never does anything good for her anxiety. every time, no matter how many times they spend together, paris fears the day she ends up solo. where rory just doesn’t show up at all, has lost interest, figured out she could do so much better then her.

but before she starts breathing too fast and her mind whirls into overdrive, rory will arrive. it’s like clockwork. she strolls in, her lovely smile, lighting up as she greets her girlfriend. she plops right beside, crumbled bag of whatever constitutes her lunch today, warm shoulder rubbing against hers and offering her a piece of her poptart. it was amazing how many sugary snacks rory could intake before one pm. 

she likes their spot. she likes that it’s quiet, so they can have their own conversations just to themselves (rory’s conversations were her favourite). other times, they’ll do homework, or the other might read. one might share some details on what she’s reading, but then they get into debates about characters and plot and how poor the author may or may not be. paris always likes these debates; she adores challenges and rory always stakes a good one, but it doesn’t leave time to get anything else done so often they won’t. 

they’re a bit nervous at first. you just never know who’ll come by. after a couple times sitting around here though, they’d see no one really  _does_ come by here. that’s really why’d they’d picked possibly the most dull section of the library. so once it’s assumed safe, hands start intertwining between them. rory started it; the two perfectly at ease, her reading a new book and paris finishing up her textbook quiz questions, when suddenly fingers had wrapped around hers. she thinks rory heard her stuttered, hitch of breath, ‘cause she smiles  while paris’s neck goes red, but otherwise they keep working. now it happens all the time, and paris thinks she likes catching up on homework more when rory’s fingers sit between hers. 

they only get braver on very few occasions. they might greet with a kiss, red cheeks and giddy smiles (they’re still getting used to it, the fluttery nature hasn’t left). rory might spare a kiss to her cheek. one day, and paris doesn’t have any recollection of _how_ , they kiss for a full ten minutes (paris later timed it).

there, in the middle of the very expensive library some rich, right-leaning old men paid for. two teen girls  kissed. paris remembers rory’s soft breaths exhaled over her lips, her hand on her knee and her own hand carefully, if not nervously, playing with dark brown hair. she could feel rory smiling against her. it was her watch that stopped them; it was set to go off five minutes before lunch ends, sending them fumbling and trying to finish up the work they neglected. when paris gets to class, she’s on edge, panicked that someone will point out how bruised she fears her lips are. 

the butterflies in her stomach don’t calm down, even when the lecture ends. but she kind of likes that they don’t. 

-

paris was anything if not prepared. 

to say this whole same-sex relationship had sent them in a bit of a tail spin was speaking lightly. paris had always considered herself solely heterosexual, as had rory. really, she hardly thought  _at all_ about relationships or crushes or..attraction. it’d all seemed very dull. 

right up until rory had crashed into her life and jolted her heart awake. 

now, she was stuck in a minefield of confusion. what did this mean? was she gay now? or is this just some sorta off-set relationship? was she...both? was that even a thing?

what she does know, is that she  _hates_ being out of the loop.

the second thing she knew was that research was her friend. that weekend she went down to hartford’s library with her head set on detangling. she makes sure she’s alone when she descends into the sexuality section. 

their stack of gay books was not what one would consider  _plentiful._ there’s some memoirs, a couple history catalogs, nothing too radical. paris pulls out a text thick as her head and had  _phd_ s written in the author portion. 

most of it’s jargon. certainly not a guide to what you do after falling for your frenemie who was also a girl, anyway. a lot of it talks about how sexuality was more a scale then a box you select, that things blur and most people go on to have same-sex relations without becoming gay. they bring up a new word –  _bisexual._ that it means both. paris feels herself exhale, falling into the metaphorical safety net.  _there’s a word._

and not only a word, but also some kinda scale from a man named _kinsey._ a viable, real chart with distinct answers and explanations to where you fell on the sexuality scale. 

_perfect._

come the monday, rory barely has time to greet her before paris delves right into getting to their soul searching. 

‘afternoon.’ she smiles, sliding down to her spot in the library isle beside and throwing that ugly mustard yellow bag off her shoulder and begins scrounging for her lunch ‘check it out – the inn had some kind of party last night and sookie ended up making too many desserts, so mom snagged some extra, here –’

‘nevermind that – I figured out our problem.’ paris blurts.

rory halts, holding up the crinkly paper lunchbag mid-air ‘..we have a problem?’

‘a crisis of self anyway, or sexuality.’ she opens up her bag, yanking out the burrowed library text and some papers ‘look, I did some research on the subject. and I made some notes.’

‘you made.. _notes.’_

paris glances up, spotting a grin and amusement shining off her girlfriend. her feathers bristle.

‘..stop laughing.’ she hisses. 

‘I’m not.’ rory denies, pressing her lips together ‘it just..very in character, and I shouldn’t be that surprised.’ 

‘well I’m glad it’s so funny to _you._ anything else you’d like to mock me for?!’ 

‘I didn’t say it wasn’t good. or it wasn’t cute.’ 

paris’s words quickly die on her tongue. rory’s mostly paying attention to the lunch she’d unfolding, but eyes flick up to her, bright and teasing. paris wants to be mad but she can’t so instead she sits there red-cheeked and huffing. 

‘..whatever.’ she grumbles, swearing she hears a hidden laugh ‘I got some information that I think explains our situation.’ 

‘how so?’ 

‘well, apparently, – and this is research based too – more people are more likely to have a same-sex relationship then you’d think.’ 

‘is that so.’ 

‘and that having two sole categories, heterosexual and homosexual, isn’t actually encapsulating all there is to sexuality, for it can be far more fluid and changing then that – which, perhaps, helps us here. now, I’d like you to take a look at this..’

paris opened the text she’d sticky-tabbed of the page showing the  scale, plopping it right onto rory’s lap before she could even  pull out her sandwich . rory sighs.

‘it’s a textbook.’

‘very clever gilmore. I’m talking about the scale pictured there. this comes from a report and accumulation of one man’s research into sexuality, highly regarded at the pinnacle study that explains it all, which concluded that a person’s sexuality could fall anywhere between these categories. it claimed that 11.6% of men aged twenty to thirty-five were given a rating of 3, with women averaging at 7%. I’d like you to look them over and deduce which one you think you are.’ 

‘do I have to do this?..’

‘if you want to eat your lunch you’re going to have to.’ 

another sigh. rory picks up the text, squinting down with blue eyes scanning over the  words. paris  watched her eyebrows slowly knit  together, nervously pushing her ring around her pinky as she tried to decipher rory’s expression. she hadn’t taken it off since rory has slid it off, not really knowing why. but often, when she’s either concentrating hard or wracking her mind around with worry, she finds herself fiddling with the fake jewelry. and then sometimes smiling when she looks down at it.

‘uh..I dunno, I guess..I guess I’m a one?..’ 

‘a one?’ paris furrowed back, snatching the book from rory to look it over again ‘hm. interesting.’

‘what? is that the wrong answer?’

‘there is no wrong answer rory, it’s a self-assessment.’

‘then why are you ‘hmm’ing me?” 

‘it’s just not what I thought – I’d pegged you as a two, at least..’ now reading the descriptors again, paris starts to furrow deeper ‘one says _incidentally homosexual_ – so that’s what I am then rory? just an incident?!’

‘you’re not an _incident_ paris, but, you know,’ rory shuffled uneasily, looking about the room rather then at her which didn’t help alleviate paris’s nerves ‘you _are_ the first time this has ever happened..’

‘what about buffy?’

‘that’s a fictional character! that doesn’t count!’ 

‘yes it does! if not the character then at least the actress who plays her – it’s still a female person you at least felt some attraction for, what about that doesn’t count?!’ 

‘well is that what it says, to allow fictional crushes?’

‘no because I’m pretty sure this was made _before television.’_

‘fine, then we’ll never know.’ 

‘you had attraction to another female besides me gilmore, that counts. and even then, what about other instances, of any other women in your life??’ 

‘I dunno, I..god, I – _maybe?_ it’s not really something I thought about!’ 

‘other characters? fake playground kisses when you were young? wet dreams?’ 

‘god paris I don’t wanna talk about this –’

‘too bad, because we have to figure out what the answer is at some point!’ 

‘well what about you?! what did you get??’ 

paris, glaring, whips her head back down to the book of answers and suddenly felt herself get nervous. 

‘well I-I hadn’t given myself a proper assessment yet, since I was waiting to show you! but if you must know, I..well..’ 

‘you don’t know do you.’ 

‘ _I do!_ just stop breathing down my neck for one second so I can look at it!’ paris snapped, pulling the text even closer to her face ‘frankly, at it’s most obvious..I’d say I’m a one too, since you are also my only instance..’ 

‘well there, there’s your an –’

‘but, looking at it..I, maybe, could or could’ve been an x, since I hadn’t had any romantic or sexual interactions or feelings before you either, unlike how you had dean...’ 

‘an x doesn’t seem totally right – what about tristian and your crush on him?’ 

paris bit into her lip, nerves  now  starting to crawl up over her head  and suffocate her  ‘I mean, I never really went out with him or had anything with him and honestly those feelings in retrospect felt more fleeting then anything –’

‘since when –’

‘and so when you think about it maybe that’s more accurate –’

‘then how does that explain me –’

‘I’m _getting there –’_

‘maybe you could be a combination of them, like a one with an x –’

‘this isn’t a _pick your own toppings_ sundae bar gilmore, you can’t be both!’paris was officially starting to sweat with the familiar pull of anxiety drawing in her stomach, and the clear-cut answers she _thought_ she found in the library were suddenly looking more like a tangled web ‘I’m either an x or one or..god, I mean, there’s also the higher numbers which makes sense considering I don’t think I ever really felt attraction since you came along –’

‘so you’re all of them?’ 

that’s it. paris felt her brain snap in two.

‘ _you know what,_ nevermind! I just, this-this is _clearly faulty!_ I – dammit!’

paris resorted to throwing down  the book across the side of the tiny aisle, arms crossing. she was looking for answers for her slight crisis and this had provided  _nothing,_ except maybe making her even more confused. rory switched her gaze between them, shuffling around. 

‘..well that was a bust.’ 

‘it was _suppose_ to help – it’s _literally_ a reference point for your sexuality and it can’t even do that right!?’

‘I mean, if it’s suppose to be as..blurred and changing, fluctuating, as you said then I hardly think you can peg it down with some category or number.’ rory shrugged ‘and really, I’m not dying to know..– you know, it’s not like, the most important thing we need to know..’

paris let her head fall back, squinting ‘you know at one point you’re going to have to stick your head out of the sand.’ 

‘ _I’m not –’_ rory sighs ‘I’m not avoiding, I..I just..well, I-I don’t know about –..are..aren’t you kinda scared? of the real answer..?’

‘I don’t scare.’ paris answered easy ‘and I just want answers; I fail to see what sitting in the dark will do.’ 

‘well it’s one thing trying to figure out I like a _girl_ – I’m still trying to figure out how I like the one who bullied me right off the bat.’ 

for all the lightness it was spoken with, it sunk like a stone in paris. she wilted, ripping her eyes away. the shift was clear to rory, the nervousness suddenly rolling off her.

‘paris..?’

‘I..I’m sorry.’ came the almost whisper ‘about that. I..I don’t know..why..when you arrived, I just got nervous and then jealous and then mad about all that and it accumulated –’

‘it’s already forgiven.’ rory squinted, like it was totally obvious ‘I mean, I’ve kinda already figured all that. and it wasn’t like..I didn’t hit back – you know, after being accused of being out to get you from nowhere and that I was also trying to date the guy you liked..’

paris scoffed lightly, half a smile starting to form ‘that you did. but it wasn’t so bad, in fact I’d say it was needed. it proved to me that you weren’t just some smart goody-two-shoes from nowhere; you could put up a fight when you wanted. you showed to be a worthy opponent.’

‘you too..’ rory half-smiled back, going back to staring down at her chipped nails ‘and..you know, I think, besides being unfairly chewed out for something I wasn’t doing, that was another thing I was kinda annoyed about that made me almost equally frustrated at you..

‘about...tristan?..’

‘well that you liked him.’ rory paused from pulling apart her nails, glancing over cautiously ‘I couldn’t understand it – you were so much better then him. you’re _still_ so much better then him.’

paris feels her walls melt a little. she allows a smile against herself. rory notices, ducking slight.

‘it-it was just so..bizarre. and frustrating.’

‘wait, so that’s why you were drilling me that night..’ 

‘what?’ 

‘during the concert, when we were in line..’ the memory suddenly rushes back to paris, causing her smile to become wider ‘demanding why it was him I liked – you were jealous.’ 

rory rolled her eyes to that, shifting to try and straighten up ‘I wouldn’t say I was  _jealous,_ per say. it just didn’t match up, with how you are, compared to  how  _he_ is. and I just..couldn’t get why you wouldn’t, you know, like someone who could hold a real intellectual conversation and did more reading then just the cheat notes for an exam..’

‘I can’t believe you were jealous.’ paris grinned to herself something of smug delight ‘no one’s ever been jealous over me..’ 

‘I wasn’t _jealous!_ I-I was just _making an observation_ – I mean, have you even had a conversation with the guy?! I feel like I’ve had more compelling ones with houseplants!’ 

‘hey rory.’ 

the brunette looks back,  red cheeks with  some nerves  clearly  bleeding through. paris reaches  up and kisses her, gentle and sweet.

‘your jealousy is mute, especially now. he couldn’t even get half-way up your pedestal if he wanted to.’ 

finally, a smile and blush following.  _stupid cute,_ was all paris could think.

‘I’ll take that..’ 

-

‘..I may need another brownie for strength. ’

paris looks up across the table. rory is glaring down at a worksheet of math homework and probably willing it to make sense. she sighs, angrily crossing out a sentence with her pencil. 

‘shouldn’t you be worried about finishing the vegetables then getting another brownie?’ paris reaches over and plucks a celery stick from her tray; rory hadn’t wanted hers so now she’s eating them.

the library was being renovated. that’s the only thing that had, that would, force them down into the cafeteria. the least appeaseable place on the school grounds honestly, paris  thought. it was too loud from classmates meandering conversations, she hated crowds, and it always smelled slightly of burnt hot dogs despite them never ever selling any.

‘thanks for looking out for my health mom.’ 

paris rolls her eyes. she pulls out her binder, about to make a point on the assigned questions medina gave them – 

‘well isn’t this cute.’ 

both heads spin to the approaching pair, madeline and louise,  and eyeing them with the same cruel glint paris used to give her girlfriend. rory only rolled her eyes and returned to her sheet but paris felt her lips curling back. 

‘and what brings you two here? the boys in track shorts not doing it for you today?’

back before ties had been severed, if they weren’t with paris, then they went to ogle and drool over the boys running laps down on the track. paris never went with them other to complain that she couldn’t believe how they were wasting their time. madeline made a particularly sour face at her. 

‘well this is what happens when you betray your friends to fraternize with the enemy.’ 

paris scoffed. they could hardly be considered (once) friends as more merely underlings. madeline and louise were the kind of people who’s lack of..anything destined them to be lead around and so they clutched onto paris, who was more then willing to lead around anyone who headed her word. anyone who’d (seemed to) want to be around her. over the couple months, she’s figured out that friendship really isn’t that. and now, they’re pissed she supposedly ‘chose’ the girl she’d sworn she couldn’t hate more if she tried, over them. 

she was broken out of cooking up a comeback by rory’s drawl. 

‘wow, enemy – I didn’t know you guys cared so much.’

‘don’t flatter yourself.’ madeline scoffed at her.

‘yes, making an enemy out of rory would assume you two had enough brain power to create a scheme against her, which is dubious at best.’ 

she appreciated the flustered look she got out of them, puffed chests and frumpled looks.

‘..I’d watch out paris.’ louise spoke lowly, fake nice that was close to threatening ‘seems kinda weird that the girl who was helping you go out with tristan, is suddenly cosying right up to your side..’ 

paris snorts, loudly. she had another cut ready on her tongue, until rory spoke again, completely lax voice as she continued on her work.

‘that’s okay – by this conversation, I think paris and I have had enough of brainless people, so we can leave him to you..’

paris didn’t bother hiding her grin. that was something she really loved – rory’s hidden and steel-sharp wit. she never showed it off but you probe her hard enough and she cuts into you twice as deep. 

louise didn’t bother with a hit back, even through the angrily scrunched expression. rather, she washed it away, back to one of those smiles that were laced with cold.

‘you know paris, I think it’s so nice you’re helping the less fortunate..’

she’s not looking at paris though. she’s looking at rory with a serpent smile that said everything. rory continues to ignore it, putting her attention to scribbling out another answer. paris however, feels her blood growing hotter and  teeth gritting together . 

‘I mean, she’s the perfect candidate, don’t you agree mads?’ she turns to madeline who mimics the sneer, cruel giggles making rory duck her head deeper ‘knock-off shoes, rented uniform, isn’t it so sad?’

‘ _louise –’_ paris growls out but that’s when she reaches out and suddenly has her fingers around rory’s headband to push it back, 

‘you know, I bet if you look close you’ll find ticks –’

paris’s vision goes white and she leaps up from the table with claws out – 

‘ _hey!–’_

‘paris! –’

in five seconds louise has crashed back into madeline and the whole cafeteria has gone silent. the sneer was wiped off and louise’s eyes were wide, madeline gripping onto her. paris hadn’t even scratched her, just sharply pulled her off, but louise clutches her hand to her chest like she’d been horribly maimed. paris stared them down now, with a snarl that showed that they’d be complete idiots to try anything else. rory is up too and she’s got a hand on paris’s arm, showing too clearly how much she worried paris would try again. 

‘..now, if you two would actually like to showcase _any_ smarts you have, I’d suggest _getting the hell away from us.’_

she didn’t need to emphasize much more. through their gaping looks made into shocked glares, they quickly  scuttled away. whereas paris’s power was no illusion, she’d always known those two were far more bark then bite. as they ran, paris possibly heard a  _‘crazy bitch..’_ whispered under breath and she  _would’ve_ yelled back to try a better insult she hadn’t already heard a thousand times, but rory was tugging on her arm, turning her back. 

‘you didn’t need to do that..’ she told her, etched in concern.

‘of course I did!’ paris argued ‘they were making outright accusations and insults towards you, even going to straight into physical assault –’

‘I don’t know if that really classifies as _assault –’_

‘whatever you want to call it, I’m not going to let them treat you like that!..’

rory stops. she’s smiling something sickly sweet. not like someone who just received a great handful of insults, now matter how poor they were.

‘..white knight..’ she mouths. her gaze was beaming and just short of adoring. 

paris could laugh. she scoffs and goes right back to glaring at her two once lakeys who were now on the run. 

‘ _please._ this is hardly a showcase of anyone’s rescue, and really nothing more then idiocy and the complete sesspool that is the environment of high school, plus that if they _actually wanted to insult me_ they’d come up with _better insults then that! –’_

‘par they’re gone now –’

‘and _frankly_ rory you cannot compliment me by using sexist stereotypes and metaphors so I really wish you wouldn’t try.’ 

she’d whipped back and in her huff scattered, frazzled hair landed over her eyes.  paris bit down on a muted scream. she brought a hand up to shove it back and considered getting a hair-tie probably loose in her bag – 

rory reaches and gathers her hair between her fingers to carefully push it away from her eyes. paris’s gasp was quiet and her heart leaped up to expand right in her throat, enough to worry that she might choke. something so tiny was suddenly so intimate and so sweet and had paris now deeply wanting rory to sink her fingers into her hair and do what she will. 

rory’s no idiot and catches onto it right away. red blooms over her cheeks and she recoils her hand like paris had tried to bite it off. it’s weird how no more then a handful of months ago, she would’ve if rory had tried that. she’s shying away now and paris wants to say, nearly plead,  _please, please don’t apologize for how happy you made my heart._

‘sorry.’ rory says anyway as she wasn’t a mind reader, cheek indenting from where she bit it ‘I just..I...you-you’re putting your hair down now..’ 

‘well I don’t know, I just thought I might, it’s less time out of my day that I’d be usually spending putting it up, and I, _huff,_ I guess it’s not really worth it, I only wanted to –’

‘I like it.’

paris keeps watching her smile, growing wider. she felt her own cheeks start to heat up too,  _fuck._ at least the cafeteria had forgotten all about them once realizing a fight was not breaking out, thankfully, before making up a  rumor that paris geller was a blushing idiot falling right over  for  rory gilmore.

which would've only been partly over-exaggerated anyway.

‘y-you do?..’ 

‘mm.’ rory hums her answer, her own blush not going away ‘it’s nice..’ 

‘..oh.’ was the only thing paris could think of, brow scrunching together. nice. she hears rory chuckle warmly, a pale hand wrapping over hers. she starts pulling her down to the table, but this time, next to her on _her_ side of the table.

‘you’re so bad at this. c’mon, mind looking over my answers for me?’

the second half of lunch was much better.

-

quirks were weird.

paris doesn’t really have a comparison. she’s never had anyone break her threshold enough for her to stay and learn another person’s. madeline and louise made paint drying seem like an exciting way to spend time. they might’ve had  _personality,_ but they had no sparks of interest; not for paris anyway.

in every way that rory was an upright and model person slash student, she was just as weird. paris often caught her mouthing along to sitcom reruns (she didn’t simply know the words, but the exact tone of the witty one-liner too). she never carried more then two books at once. you get her to laugh hard enough and it’ll develop into hiccups. sharp and steady words but probably two left feet and the more she trips and drinks spill, paris’s destroyed project from forever ago made a lot more sense. in her favourite books, she’s not only tabbed her favourite lines, but stuck each different quote with a different colour, categorizing them. paris appreciated that.

for herself, well, she’d never really thought she was all that intricate. interesting she’ll consider; she has a lot of opinions and prides herself on being versed in many topics, so she could hold a good conversation. she could be  _interesting._ but lovable traits? that was a bit of a different ballpark.

it wasn’t till her and rory were sitting in the back booth at luke’s, a sea of papers and textbooks and highlighters and sticky notes. paris hadn’t been particularly thrilled to do their studying here; the library had always been good to them, why change it up, especially for a place with as many noisy and oddball patrons that stars hallow had. but rory demanded that if they were going to go so far deep in notes and textbook paragraphs, then she needed luke’s coffee and fries (paris had rolled her eyes, even though, after, she’d repeatedly stole fries off rory’s plate).

so with that, she’s shifting through her pencil case, grumbling. she’s laid out everything else, but she can’t find her favourite purple highlighter. that’s when, distantly, she distantly hears rory saying something, pointing at her tools she’s put down.

‘what?’

‘your utensils.’ rory reached over to poke at them, a furrowing paris immediately putting out a hand less rory take one ‘you put them out before you get started. pens, and then pencils.’

paris blinked. she examined the various tools, and for the first time ever, noticing her lay-out – which was, in fact, pens at the top and pencils down under. that wasn’t intentional. it was what happened. she bit into her tongue, fidgeting. 

‘what, have you been watching me?’ 

‘I noticed.’ rory brought up her head and smiled like she always does ‘like, the other day I gave you some m&ms and there just happened to be two red and two blue and you immediately put them together to match.’

paris didn’t know what to say to that. even if it was rory, something about someone picking out her traits, putting them on display, dissecting them, made her queasy. they weren’t weaknesses persay but they were close to it and the fact of someone digging into her like that, looking for them, immediately made red alarms blare and her defenses shoot up, lips curling back and forming a glare.

‘yeah well I’m _trying_ to be the most organized I can be to optimize the most success gilmore, so why don’t you keep to your own business and stop sticking your nose in mine!’ 

rory shrunk. paris doesn’t even have to see it before she can sense it, the girl slinking back into her side of the booth, a crestfallen expression going back to stare at her own work. maybe it was the sad-puppy-dog look rory was very good at, but guilt hits her right in the gut. she hadn’t really snapped like that..well, since they became  _them._ paris will always  have a hot temper and outstretched claws, but once the two of them got close, she hadn’t found a reason to honestly act as severely. she anxiously sits on the cold silence before blurting,

‘sorry.’

she senses rory’s head coming up but doesn’t look. she stares down at her own work, hard enough to wonder if she’d burn a hole right through the table. she starts pulling at her nails like plucking shaking nerves.

‘I-I think..it’s my mom. yesterday she said that, _apparently,_ I stand too straight? which seems like, you know, the opposite of a problem! but according to her it’s offputting and then that lead into how it makes me seem too stiff, along with the fact that I don’t smile enough even though I don’t know who the hell I’m suppose to be trying to impress, so I guess it’s not a surprise that I’m anal about my school supplies too!..’

rory doesn’t answer. paris’s face is hot and now she’s unsettled, fidgeting; she wishes she could just put back the guts she spilled all over the floor. or for it to open and swallow her. the silence simply helps churn her nerves and after nearly peeling off her entire nail she starts collecting the pens and pencils perfectly lined in the way her mother hates and begins stuffing them away with a tight throat – 

rory’s fingers wrap around the eraser ends and pluck them out of paris’s hand. 

‘you don’t see your mom often right?’ 

paris freezes.

‘..maybe for thirty minutes in a week, if that.’ 

‘so..’

‘so?’

‘so I think that says a lot..’ 

she blinks back. rory is all bright eyes and earnesty and there’s no sense of a ‘sike!’ coming on that paris can tell.

‘..care to elaborate on that?’

‘I think it says how much she knows..’

paris waits for that to make sense. rory, slowly, pulls a smile over. it settles paris in a way she can’t explain. 

‘you wouldn’t be able to recite periodic elements or speak a foreign language if you studied it for only half an hour every _week..’_

paris almost smiles. that had to be one of the weirdest metaphors she’d heard. sometimes, by the bizareness alone, it was incredible how much rory took after her mother. rory catches the near twitch of lips and smiles brighter. 

‘I like that you do that, your quirks.’

paris snorts.

‘you know, I don’t appreciate being lied to.’

‘fine.’ rory tries to shuffle closer from her opposing side of the booth, chin resting on palms to look her head on ‘I like that they’re yours, that they make you you.’ 

nerves continue to chew at the back of her head but paris dares to peel her gaze up, to baby blue. 

‘really?..’ 

‘it’s good to have around; how else am I suppose to eat the red smarties first?’ 

paris scoffs but it’s almost a laugh and that’s a score to her girlfriend. 

-

‘I’m going to tell mom.’ 

paris blinks back. she lifts her head from where she buried it in her history text, gazing across the library isle, across their spot. rory sat opposite her, legs stretched out and brushing against her own. paris thought she was busy with her extra vocab questions on the back of her french sheet, but obviously not. 

she’s nervous. paris can tell that because she’s pretending not to be nervous, faking examining of the vocab words and nonchalantly tucking back her hair. it’s obvious in how she doesn’t let her hands still, constantly moving her eyes to paris’s and away. paris was thrown too, uttering some noises before they became words. 

‘r-really..?’ 

rory sighs, giving in to pick at her nails ‘it..it’s only giving me more anxiety keeping it. more guilt. this-this is my first  _really_ serious relationship and it kinda sucks I can’t tell her about it. but I  _really_ want to. so..I guess you gotta bite the bullet at some point..’

‘oh.’ was all paris could say. she guessed that was true. she didn’t exactly have a kind of _basis_ for this, but..their relationship seemed to be going well and neither party had intentions to stop it, so sure.

‘is that..okay?..’ 

‘what?..’ paris furrowed, wondering why _her_ word was needed on this ‘that-it’s fine rory. it isn’t my relationship with my parents after all..’ 

‘right.’ rory sighs, staring down at herself ‘just mine I’m going to metaphorically dangle over a high-rise rope..’ 

paris had never been good at advice. you’d have to be good with..people, for that. but the way rory moped was simply ridiculous. she couldn’t let this go on. she shuffled over to rory’s side, pushing off her palms to straighten her back against the wall of books.

‘rory,’ she looked over to the brunette, who was busy pushing the tip of her mechanical pencil back in and out ‘I’m sure it’s going to be fine..’ 

‘mm-hm..’ 

she didn’t look up. paris bit into her cheek, huffing. alright, the easy way didn’t work.  _c’mon geller you can try harder then that._

‘lorelai hardly seems like the kind of person to fall for homophobic agendas and cast you out..’ 

‘no, no it’s not that, it’s just..’ she took in a heavy breath ‘only some months ago we were talking about boys and it was all normal but now everything’s flipped on it’s head and its..just uncomfortable and will totally weird her out, and it’s just gunna...it’s just gunna change things –’

‘that’s bullshit.’

‘why –’

‘I have never seen anyone love anything more then how much lorelai loves you.’ 

that does something. rory stops her roll and glances up, a bit confused but at least slightly hopeful, paris can tell. 

‘..seriously.’ she repeats ‘you could see it from space. so having this discussion is pointless.’ 

rory waits and waits but slowly a smile comes over. she shuffles up to be a little closer to her, bumping shoulders. 

‘you always know how to get right to the point don’t you?..’ 

‘well since _you’re_ failing to. I know simply having the conversation can be uncomfortable, but, she’s your mother, your best friend right? so, once you _remember_ that the less worried you can be..’ 

‘seamless logic..’ rory quips ‘thanks..’ 

paris is still no better at earnesty. she has to move her gaze away, unsure. 

‘whatever..’ she shrugs off. she props up her text, scanning for the word she broke off on. she feels lips suddenly kiss quick behind her ear. she ignores her heated cheeks and the smile she can see in the corner of her eye. 

paris at least gets her to call her later so she can hear what happened. she has her phone resting beside her the entire night as she finishes booklet packets and required readings. it’s very well nine when it does ring and paris snatches it at the second buzz because she’s been waiting for answers for hours now. 

‘well?!’

‘ _hello to you too.’_

she’s telling jokes. that’s at least a good sign. 

‘don’t berate me gilmore, you made me wait this long for results.’ paris scolds, shoving everything aside and sitting up proper to prepare ‘..so, how was everything? okay?..’ 

a big exhale. paris was certainly in for a long ride. 

‘ _well it was_ long. _it took half the time for her to just..ingest the information, I think. and there was lots of crying too, mostly..mostly done by me, so that was fun..’_

‘what happened?!’ 

‘ _nothing honestly, it..it’s..’_ there was a small laugh, tired but true _‘you..you were right. I got so worked up and emotional and panicked but in the end she was totally fine with it. I mean, she was confused at first, to how it was a. a girl, and then b...you.’_

‘well she wasn’t alone in that..’ 

‘ _I know. but once she got through that she was totally on board – I think having you around more has helped your image. it..it was all so..fast, I couldn’t really believe she’d hoped on so easily but then she’s making jokes about signs and that’s why I treated the poster of buffy in my room like a deity and...I-I kept asking just to be sure and she keeps saying she doesn’t care..’_

rory’s voice starts getting a little tight, her exhale shivering. 

‘ _which, you know, is-is where_ I _start crying and then it..it’s kinda like a domino effect, when she sees me upset she gets upset back and so we spent another twenty minutes hugging each other so..so that-that was..good..’_

paris smiled to herself at that. 

‘ _but_ finally, _we got through it and it’s good now. she said she’s ready to don the rainbows, and I even think those sexuality factoid sheets you forcibly gave me helped a little – at least, in gaining a bigger perspective.’_

‘see?!’ paris knew that was a smart idea, stuffing those research sheets she’d made when she’d done her library research, in rory’s hands even as she did her damnedest to politely refuse them, swearing having some cold hard facts couldn’t _hurt_ to consolidate any concerns lorelai might have.

plus, paris felt better giving them; she couldn’t really do the pretty words to ease rory’s worry, but she knew how to help if it was through research and facts.

‘ _so, overall, she was all fine like you said.’_

‘exactly – I knew she would, you need to listen to me more often.’ 

‘ _uh-huh – I think the only thing she was upset about is that we were hiding this for so long, and that it was going on while, uh..you were up in my room with me unsupervised..’_

‘what does she think we were doing??’ 

‘ _making out.’_

‘well that’s not...totally true. in comparison to what some of our peers have been doing with eachother, you and I kissing occasionally is extremely chaste.’

‘ _but_ _nor is it_ _totally_ _untrue, no matter how chaste._ _so, I’m on kitchen duty for the next couple weeks – washing and cooking stuff without the cheat of box macaroni and the microwave, so..we’ll see how that goes..’_

paris chuckles. of course that was the punishment – for her family, that would be a gift. 

a sour feeling suddenly hits the back of her throat. she realizes, then, in the pause of silence, she was never going to get that kind of unconditional love from her parents. well, she’s always  _known_ that but it was crystal clear in light of a parent that would choose her child over any preconceived notion. that would love them no matter what they chose and if they fell or if they were what society scorned. paris has never known that kind of love. she has to quietly clear her throat and blink away any stinging she can feel around her eyes. 

‘ _oh!’_ rory perks up, bringing her back to the surface _‘before I forget – she wants you to come to dinner._ officially _this time.’_

‘d-dinner? but I’ve already been over.’ 

‘ _a nice one, I guess to have a real sit down. I think it’s her way of showing how supportive she is of this. maybe this weekend?’_

‘oh. alright, sure..’

‘great!’ 

rory had to go shortly after that, of to some homework that’d been put off for the heart-to-heart. they say their goodbyes and paris can only sit with this unsettled feeling, staring down at her phone. she can’t stop thinking about how the first time she was over at the gilmores she’d been so nervous and had nearly imploded in front of lorelai that she actually had to tell paris to calm down. and that hadn’t even been a formal, fancy dinner.

..oh no. 

-

the dinner had come over like the shadow of a looming, overcast cloud. it was odd because paris really did like going there. she liked rory’s house and the happiness living inside it. lorelai was kind and made her feel at ease, which is a feat for anyone to do. and of course, she enjoyed spending time with rory.

she did not want to go to this dinner. 

she was confident something was going to go awry. she’d never been good with people. and the last time she spoke directly with lorelai she’d shot off her anxiety, stuck her foot right in her mouth, and almost got the mother panicked. she takes four hours getting a good outfit and even then she doesn’t like it. she drives over into the tiny town but of course she left too early, spending that free time parked a block away, ruminating and trying to get the nerve to finally go up there.

she’s trying to breathe walking up the porch, reminding herself it was just spending time with rory. and she loved being with rory. she knocks firmly on the door instead, waiting to be greeted by her girlfriend – instead, it was lorelai (paris honestly isn’t sure what she’d been thinking, given she was the one who actually  _owned_ the house).

‘oh, hey kid! rory said you were gunna be here by 6:00?..’

paris freezes. she glances down to her watch. it was 5:34. 

‘right – sorry, um, I’m too early, I can wait in the car if you’re not ready –’

‘what? no, c’mere..’

lorelai ushered her inside. paris awkwardly stood in the foyer, watching lorelai quickly wipe off her hands on the dishtowel slung over her shoulder, a sign of heavy kitchen work. paris realized right then she hadn’t brought a single thing. why hadn’t she done that?! surely some kind of dessert would’ve done it, or maybe a side-salad. even flowers would’ve been good! what was she doing?! off to flying start, clearly.

‘so!’ lorelai smiles, hands on hips. paris tried to mimic the easy stance but she was about as strung as a wind-up toy. 

‘so..’ 

‘you clean up good!’

paris looks down at herself to evaluate the  fancy sweater and dresspants for the thousandth time. with lorelai’s dressy, though still casual, signature plaid, it made her stick out like a sore thumb. 

‘thanks. I uh, wasn’t sure what the dress-code was, so..’ 

‘well it looks uncomfortable, which therefore means you’re the dressiest here.’ 

paris pauses, ingesting that. did she look uncomfortable? could lorelai tell?!

‘I mean..’ lorelai sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose ‘it-it’s nice paris. sorry. just..you know, it’s uh, it’s seeing daughter’s first big-time relationship, then daughter is dating a girl but isn’t _gay,_ it’s rather..uh..’ 

‘bisexual.’ paris clarified. 

‘yes!’ lorelai snapped her fingers ‘uh – which-which is good! it’s good, you know, you’re young and why close yourself off to just one person you know? it’s smart. and this time, hey, no pregnancy scares to worry about!’ 

paris doesn’t know how to respond to that. she could potentially agree, because it was an added bonus, and even make a joke how that she definetely wasn’t going to throw out her life like that anyway. but then, would that be insulting towards lorelai, considering she’d had rory as a teenager? better not say anything then. but would that come off rude? or should she just make it super clear to the woman that she was by no means sleeping with her daughter? paris can feel herself starting to sweat. 

‘well, really, considering the high rise in teen pregnancy’s, rory and I are luckily on the right side of those percentages – I mean, not that there’s anything _wrong_ with that, per say, it’s clear how well and competintly you’ve raised rory but not all sixteen year old’s are on that level of maturity – in fact I say they meet a _bare minimum_ because most of the intecorse leading to said pregnancies is thoughtless – _not that rory and I are doing anything like that –’_

‘kid, you know what? forget I said anything.’ lorelai effortlessly reached forward and clasps a hand around paris’s arm, gently leading her in ‘we’re all in new territory here, and you guys just gotta give me a minute to catch up with the both of you. but I’m glad you’re here.’ 

it was so earnest and warm that paris couldn’t believe lorelai was simply saying that. she just doesn’t know what to say back, but she manages a tiny smile in return. the last she wants is lorelai’s disapproval.

thuds down the stairs interrupted them. paris leaned back to leer up the stairs, catching rory as she stopped at the platform. 

‘par!’

paris almost loses any composition she had. rory is dressed up in a sky blue sundress with a white, long-sleeve throw overtop to tie it together, unable to look any more adorable if she tried. her hair styled nicely to flow down her shoulder, ocean eyes electric and she smiled at her when gazes catch.

she’s staring. paris is staring and she  _knows_ she’s staring and she really wants to  _stop_ but she can’t quite get there. her face is too warm and her breathing has picked up and she realizes how much rory really holds her heart because just looking at her, she can hear her whole  _self_ screaming all too loudly. 

‘...hi..’

rory climbs down the rest and heads straight for her, throwing her arms around paris’s shoulders. paris is slower but she brings up her arms too, settling around rory’s waist and holding her warm frame to hers. before, she used to be uncomfortable lending herself over like this, but now she adores rory being as close to her as she can be. she presses a smile into the sweater-clad shoulder before rory pulls away.

‘you look nice..’ she compliments. paris loses her words once more, watching rory bashfully grin and tuck away any loose hair. 

‘..thanks..’ paris stutters while wondering when the hell she became _this_ dope because she can usually string sentences together like nothing. but rory gilmore looking prettier then she has any business being strikes her right down.

she should really say something back. say  _anything._ otherwise she looks like total idiot standing there with her mouth open so  _just speak just tell her she looks nice it’s not that hard and you’re making a fool of yourself –_

rory breaks off and turns her head, peering curiously, to the kitchen. paris follows, both finding lorelai with her brow raised and a giddy smile of  _look-how-cute._ the second they caught her though, the smile drops and she whips around with an ‘oh!’, pretending like whatever she was cooking had gone off. 

paris isn’t sure what to make of that. rory makes some kind of laugh mixed with a scoff, smile pressing her lips together. a light red coats her cheeks, and secretly, paris smiles at that.

so that part went off well, at least. but the dinner was hardly over yet. 

rory and lorelai work like a well-oiled machine. it was insane. the play-back off each other was seamless and before one could say what she was thinking, the other was already saying it. the same name aside, they might as well be the same person. lorelai was rory and rory was lorelai. it was fascinating to watch, really. they had such an easy rhythm all paris could do was hang by the doorway, observing, too nervous to step in and ruin it, much like a careening wrecking ball smashing into the pretty and perfectly structured house. she knows they weren’t trying to do this, especially by rory continuously encouraging her further into the kitchen, but it was hard not to feel out of place. 

it doesn’t discourage the mother and daughter. since paris was early dinner wasn’t ready yet, she sat at the chipped, well-loved dinner table as they worked around her. it starts off easy; lorelai asks about school, and they both fill her in, rory on medina’s lectures and paris detailing events of student council and more. 

‘ _wow kid, you really do all that stuff?’_

‘ _well, yes – you don’t get into harvard, into any ivy school, by sitting around counting ceiling tile, which I swear I catch half our classmates doing..’_

‘ _oh, that’s all I did.’_

‘ _you sell yourself short mom.’_

‘ _hey, I did get voted most funniest, and I did help_ _orchestrate_ _an incredibly intricate plan of filing my high school’s ventilation system with rotten fruit, so they had to let us all out and we got the day off. so my legacy lives on.’_

rory laughs but paris stalls on hers because she isn’t sure if she should or not. frankly, she doesn’t know exactly when lorelai is joking and when she isn’t. it doesn’t help that she’s terrible at both understanding and receiving jokes. the more she jokes to get the blonde stop sitting so stiffly, the more stiffer she  _becomes,_ because apparently, paris realizes about herself, she can’t  _not_ take everything seriously.

paris can’t help her thoughts. can’t help wondering every other second what lorelai thinks about her. if she likes her. if she hates her. if she thinks rory can do better because honestly, so does she. if she should be saying more. if she should be saying  _less._

it’s all very confusing. and nerve-wracking. 

finally,  after a half an hour more of paris  not understanding lorelai’s  one-liners as jokes and failing to land her own attempts at wit,  dinner rolls around, saving  her from anymore configuring of conversations. she watches the mother and daughter work around each other, gathering utensils and plates and setting up the food, pasta in one bowl and serving the home-made sauce into the other. paris again stands back from the organized busyness, feeling more and more out of place and useless as they did all the work. that wasn’t fair; lorelai already made up the dinner and everything, she shouldn’t have to do the rest as well. there had to be something paris could do, surely.

she could help. she could easily carry something over. yes, she could do that. she rises up and goes over to the counter, slinking behind the family. her fingers grasp around the bowl of red sauce. 

‘oh, hey, kid, you don’t have to do that –’

‘it’s okay, I’m sure I can manage one bowl –’

what paris did not realize however, was just how heavy the thing was. so of course, paris, in all her stubborn-headedness, simply pulls it harder over the edge of the counter – 

and tips the entire thing. 

she yelps the second the sauce hits all down her shirt, cascading down the front and falling right onto her jeans. she hears yells behind her and frantic, she pushes the bowl back onto the counter where it hits it ungracefully. the damage is done, however. the entire contents had spilled down her front and the rest had created a pool on the floor. it wasn’t boiling thankfully, though it was still hot, clinging onto her shirt and over her skin, but paris can only stare at the new mess below her. rory is by her ear instantly, hand on her shoulder.

‘oh my god paris, are you okay –’

lorelai is right beside, a wet washcloth suddenly in her hand and gently prying at her hands.

‘geez, okay hey, kid, paris, c’mere this has got to be way too hot still –’

paris isn’t paying attention to them. she’s gaping at the mess and her throat is already closing in. she screwed up. she  _really_ screwed up. lorelai had invited her for this dinner and now she’s gone and spilt the food she bothered to make. she’s going to hate her. 

she desperately spins, trying to find the mother in with a teary gaze. 

‘I’m so sorry lorelai, I’m so sorry, I –’

‘hey, it’s okay –’

‘but-but I ruined it – ’

‘you didn’t – c’mere, you didn’t hurt yourself did you?’ 

paris only continues to blubber, letting lorelai inspect and wipe off her arms and shirt. rory had also brought over paper towels to get rid of the rest of the mess and paris only feels more sick and embarrassed having them faun over her like she hadn’t just broken everything. she wants to fix it, nervous hands outstretching but they push her back, tell her it’s fine, laying down paper towls on the floor as they discussed the next plan, and paris stood there uselessly. 

‘is there anymore in the pot?’ 

‘eh, only enough to feed maybe half the average man.’ 

‘okay, well, the general store should still be open..’ 

‘yeah, but it’s six now, so, ugh, doing any more cooking, we’d be eating at eight or later..’ 

the dinner. it’s ruined. she’d ruined it. paris can feel her breathing getting too heavy, panic flowing up her throat. it wasn’t enough that she couldn’t make conversation like a regular person or know what a joke is or at least even make lorelai like her at all. now she’s gone and ruined the food and all the hardwork and she’ll just be an embarrassment to her girlfriend and she can’t quite breathe she doesn’t know what to do except – 

she runs. 

she runs for whatever refuge she can find first. it happened to be the spare bathroom down the hall, slamming open the door and shutting it just as fast. there was a lock on the door handle so she turns that too for good measure. she can hear rory frantically calling her name for her to stop running and come back, until she faintly hears lorelai say something to her daughter, making it stop. perhaps to slow down, give her a minute. 

or just to leave her, that she didn’t want her to come back. that she might just spill or ruin something else. that it was a waste anyway.

paris stumbled back till she hit the wall, slinking down to the floor. she didn’t hold back her tears anymore, crying against her legs as she drew them up. she’d done it, done exactly what she thought she’d do. she’d ruined everything. she was terrible with others and it’s no wonder no one likes her. 

she sits there, sniffling quietly, for a little while, twisting her ring around and watching the bathroom lights glint off the fake gold. she can hear the family quietly bustling outside in the minutes passing, whispering. probably talking about her. she just wanted the floor to swallow her whole at this point, to disappear. about twenty minutes later, there’s softly shuffling feet in front of the door.

‘paris..’

paris doesn’t answer rory, burrowing her face into her legs. there’s a sigh. 

‘paris c’mon. it’s really okay! we cleaned everything and we just wanna make sure you didn’t burn yourself or anything. can you please come out?..’ 

‘just leave me alone!’

another sigh. 

‘alright then..’

paris expected to hear steps making their slow way back, allowing her to wallow in peace. the doorknob starts turning and suddenly the door is open, rory there in the archway. paris blinks back and her brow bunches, staring to scramble up. 

‘what the –’

rory  holds her hand out ‘that lock’s been broken for forever, relax.’

paris huffs, falling back against the wall. sure, why not. rory walks over, leaning onto the wall and sliding down to sit beside.

‘...you know, it is kinda funny that after all the time you’ve spending here, the first ‘official’ dinner we have you spill all the food –’

‘ _oh my god_ – it is not _funny!’_ paris roared, throwing up her hands and glaring, showing the streaked face and clear distress. 

rory still tried to smile but it wilted seeing such an upset. 

‘..c’mon par, it’s so much easier if you have a sense of humour about it –’

‘I was really _trying!’_ paris lamented, words breaking up, tears making a second round ‘I just, I-I was! I like you a lot, and I even like lorelai too! you..you mean a lot to me and lorelai means the world to _you,_ and vice versa, so _I’m sorry_ that I wanted it to go well!’

‘paris –’

‘but no, of course, I go and screw it up – screw up any good personal relationships I had! now your mom probably hates me because I can’t take a single joke or hold a conversation _and_ I ruined the meal she painstakingly made! she’s going to hate me and our relationship now that she knows I can’t do any of this stuff right!’

the rest becomes garbled, angry noises as her back hits the wall. she puts her hands over her face again as a failed attempt to hide her tears, hide how distraught she was. how mad at herself she was and how she’s ruined any bonds with the woman who was starting to almost feel like a mother, and how she’s probably embarrassed her girlfriend who won’t want anything to do with her after this.

‘...paris.’ rory sits up, speaking quiet and earnest ‘this isn’t like..your fancy dinner parties were you gotta say the right thing at the exact right moment, impress everyone and hold your pinky up at all times. we really don’t care about that..’

paris dares to, slowly, lift her head up. rory’s sincerity shines through the gentleness she was showing. 

‘my mom just honestly wanted to get to know you..’

‘so..’ paris sniffles, rubbing her sleeve over her cheek ‘..so does she even like me?..’

‘oh she thinks you’re totally weird.’

paris’s hopes crack. her expression drops and she pushes down new tears, head hitting the wall. great, she knew she wouldn’t pull this off –

‘and that’s exactly why she likes you.’ 

she whips round. rory’s grinning to hold down her laughter, probably from the complete gobsmacked look her girlfriend has on.

‘really, if you’d been perfectly structured and normal she would’ve liked you a lot less. I think she finds solidarity in someone who’s an awkward mess at dinners and can stick their foot impressively far in their own mouth.’ 

paris blinks back. she honestly isn’t sure what to with this information; she was both elated and insulted. 

‘so...it’s fine?..’

‘yeah. she appreciates a good weirdo. she likes you.’

‘I just..I want to know for sure – I heard you guys talking out there earlier..’ 

rory pauses, stalling by ducking her head away. paris was confident that couldn’t be a good sign until a smile flittered at the corner of baby pink lips. 

‘we were just..talking about the idea of..us, and what she was thinking..’ paris tensed up at that, not loving the space of quiet ‘..and she said she already knew everything by the look on your face when you saw me come down the stairs..’

paris goes up in red. she does everything to duck her head away, clearing her throat, and rory can’t hide her laugh. she puts a hand on paris’s arm to get her to turn, and kisses her softly. the worries start to melting away a little more.

‘so, if you wanna come with me, we can get you a change of clothes and after have this dessert mom has been excited about for a week.’ 

paris finally smiles. she has to put on a brave face, but it wasn’t so hard to face her own humiliation as rory stands by her side. 

she leads her out, pinky around hers, back to the kitchen. lorelai is already there, a fresh pile of rory’s clothes for her and a smile to ease. paris dons the extra sweater and jeans, her own thrown into the laundry. lorelai brings out the triple layer chocolate cake that she claims has been haunting her dreams for so long, finally getting sweet salvation as they dish up and burrow into the living room. paris eats the cake that admittedly lives up to it’s reputation and gets the down-low on  _friends_ and  _will & grace_ but not  _seinfield_ because kramer gives lorelai the creeps. the gilmores spend half the time spraying whipcream originally put on the cake into each other’s mouths, rory pushing it on her (‘say ah geller!’) but  paris  manages to kick her off, though can’t help a grin when lorelai sprays rory and gets half of it on her face – but maybe that’s because rory’s falling apart in laughter and she’s just about the prettiest thing in the whole world, even when half-covered in cream.

the rest of the night is filled with the lightness paris loves about this place and lorelai hugs her tight when she leaves, says she’s most definitely looking forward to a next time. 

she’ll consider that a score.

-

most people look forward to summer trips. 

most people though, enjoyed things paris can’t possibly understand. 

she’d never been a huge fan of summer. she was of the few variety who enjoyed being in school and exercising her brain. summer simply caused a huge plot of time dedicated to boredom and waiting around for the next year. chilton offers projects over the summer for extra credit that she usually takes, or she does some extra  volunteering. otherwise she’s left with moping around libraries or even her house which she already disliked being in. quite honestly, summer was too hot and everybody was too ‘busy’ at dumb parties and it was the time it really occurred to her how lonely she was. 

rory had made something out of summer this time. paris still did her usual projects and whatnot, but  now there were actual choices  in her day. they get together to do their work, paris sailing through her essays as rory goes into the books she’d picked for her summer reading list. the times they go for ice cream doubles (which paris didn’t even think was possible) and lorelai invites her for more dinners. paris starts to get the hang of them. 

rory convinces her to drop her latest project for some outdoors matinee showing in her backwoods town. paris does and despite thinking this ridiculous town must only exist within the vacuum of a children’s book, she settles on the blanket the gilmores laid over the grass smack in the middle of town, bags of popcorn in hands as everyone gathered before the screen. the movie was even more bizarre then she prepared herself for and apparently no one in this town can sit still as they all talk over each other to provide their own commentary. lorelai hisses everytime someone kisses on screen and throws popcorn at a guy named kirk who stood up in front of the projector, blocking the whole thing. it was chaos. rory  does  lay her head on her shoulder half-way through, closing her eyes as she rests, paris feeling the gentle breaths over her neck so she’s surprised she doesn’t melt right into the grass.

so, all of that was probably why paris was not looking forward to her family’s annual trip to new york. she was explaining it to her girlfriend on that 3 o’clock august afternoon, nestled just off of star hallow’s local swimming pool and munching on snow cones. 

‘my parents rent a house there.’ she explains, turning the freezing paper cup that was leaking purple in her hand ‘so it’s really an excuse to take their single vacation in a year..’ 

‘sounds fun.’ rory says anyway, gently biting into her own red ice chips ‘it’s new york after all – I’ve kinda been dying to see it myself..’ 

‘..I’d take you, you know, if we were allowed guests..’ she claims, glaring down at her bare feet and the grass below, shuffling around ‘it would certainly beat being away for three weeks anyway..’ 

she’s quiet so paris looks over from where she’s tucking in her feet, to rory wrapped up in a worn pool towl with tweety bird on it. she’s propped up her elbow on her knee, chin resting on fist, and giving her something short of a shit-eating-grin, lips dyed in artificial cherry curling up. 

‘is that your backwards way of saying you’ll miss me?’ 

paris gapes a little first until clicking back in, eyes rolling.  rory certainly had a lot of confidence, and big talk, for someone who couldn’t stop blushing for an hour. paris had shown up to the pool invite wearing a bikini despite it being the  _last_ thing she wanted to wear, as it was the  _only_ bathing suit she could find. she’s already betting that her mother bought that for her and hid any other suit. rory had gone a little blank, and paris would find, is terrible at covering things up by blurting out her excuse as  _I-I just thought you were someone else_ and  _the..the colour just caught me off guard._ it’s beige, for god’s sake. though paris can’t pretend she won’t go home and think about rory in a one piece suit for an hour straight. 

she doesn’t have a quip to hit back with either as that  _was_ what she was probably hinting at. paris was going to miss her. a lot.

‘..just finish your snow cone gilmore. you look like you’re going to clown try-outs.’

rory can only give her a faux-glare in response, both grinning. 

her family leaves some time after that. paris has to find ways to occupy her time again, lugging her school work and books all the way over. since it was a ‘vacation’, technically, the family spends required time together with nights out, maybe to the symphony or dinners at the homes of the other elite families her parents have managed ties with. sitting rigidly and silently next to them, paris keeps thinking of lorelai, of her jokes and sweet hassling and stealing of food off rory’s plate. until spending so much time with them, has paris seen how..quietly empty these dinners were.

the days are all to her, however. she travels around a bit, stopping in favourite cafes and bookstores she always does when they come over. new york was always so fascinating and had much more to offer then hartford. 

the library was her best friend in this. the ny branch was  _huge_ and you could spend and entire 8am to 9pm there. rory would adore it. she spends most waking hours finishing assignments there, tucked away in the shelves and silence that felt a lot more homely then the silence of home. their book collection was also far superior to that of hartford’s, and paris knew, they’d have a much bigger section of gay books. and they’d probably have better answers. 

so she snoops around and digs through the shelves, picking out newpaper articles and history books that date same-sex attraction way back to roman times. it was actually rather interesting. they don’t have a lot on bisexuality which is what her and rory were, but paris enjoys the limited supply of lesbian books anyway. she reads up on attraction and learns about something called  _compulsory heterosexuality._ when a woman feels compelled to have feelings for a man because that’s what society has taught her; that she finds her ‘crushes’ on men to be empty and feels more connected to other women. something stirs in paris and she re-reads that passage a couple times, even secretly writing some if it down to tell rory later. 

because that was the second best thing – the library had computers. when paris completes her rounds and  finds her books, she plunks herself down at one to talk to her girlfriend. they were sending emails back and forth every other day and her favourite part, usually, was opening one to hear the tales from rory. she mostly talks about her books and leaves paris detailed paragraphs for her to scroll through talking all about the themes and character analyses and what the author must be thinking. paris loves them and rory’s bright ideas and how they get to talk about writing. she’s kept up on the antics of stars hallow and the new shows her and lorelai are getting into. that she misses her and always ends them with  _yours, rory._

_yours._ paris doesn’t think she’ll tire of hearing that.

-

something knocks her out of her normalcy the third week in. 

it was, in essence, just another party her family was invited to. except this time, they weren’t the sole ones invited; apparently a collection of new york’s elite few families were coming to make quite the dinner party. paris was forced to done her nicest outfit and tag along, per usual.

what was different this time, is that paris wasn’t the youngest person there anymore.

a couple families had teens her age, a small handful. most already knew each other from the tight circle that was the first class, so that doesn’t really help her much. but regardless she’s encouraged, if not pushed, to go hang out with them then bothering the adults. it was that or just meandering on her own through the vast halls and fancy décor like she’d already been doing. she nearly chooses that. she’d gotten very good at entertaining her own company.

she doesn’t have a choice though when the owners of the home, the man who’s some business partner with her father, introduce her to their son who’s already swarming in a group of peers, and then she’s promptly left there. they at least, at first, had the decency to talk to her, ask her how she was finding herself in the big city. to which paris replied  _‘well, between the utter boredom that is traipsing along to these events filled with equally dull people, I’d say there’s a reason why nobody likes new york except those born here and smalltown tourists.’_

that went about as well as you’d expect. 

now, paris had been standing off to the side of the group for twenty minutes now,  alone and sipping very bad, fake champagne they’d been given. it wasn’t like she had any regrets; the group was having about the same intellectually leveled conversation of  _who was hooking up with who_ that she could get at home. she contemplates how worth it is to call rory and have the argument that she doesn’t mind, she can pay for the long-distance charges, when she spots a pair of men’s dress shoes suddenly in front of her flats.

she throws her head up, warily regarding the sixteen-year-old boy with dusty blonde hair and a half-smile. 

‘..what?’

‘saw what happened; figured I’d come over and give it a second chance.’ he offers kindly, still smiling. it didn’t seem cocky but paris’s eyes roll back all the same.

‘ _fantastic,_ so glad I was _graced_ with the opportunity to amend my wrongdoings..’ 

he laughs anyway at the venomous sarcasm, surprising her.

‘new yorkers are all kinda the same – you’d be better off to insult our mothers then insult our city.’

‘and I guess you’re just the self-aware one?..’ 

‘I’d like to think so.’ 

paris only scoffs, shaking her head to herself. he still doesn’t loose his smile, biting nervously as he moves into his next point. 

‘..how’s orwell treating you?’ 

‘what?’

he points to her, well, at her purse still hanging off her shoulder that had her things stuffed inside – including her copy of  _1984_ tucked in. 

‘I-I saw it in your bag earlier..’ 

‘oh.’ paris realizes, brow bunching and unbunching ‘..it’s compelling enough. I read it once before when I was thirteen, but at that age it’s rather difficult to get over the political jargon so it was due for another reread..’

‘yeah, orwell really gives his reader more benefit of the doubt then he maybe should.’ he agrees, teetering back and forth on his heels ‘I found once you’re able to get past it, it’s a really compelling read though. and even if you can’t, _animal farm_ is a good replacement as it’s pretty much a dumbed down version..’ 

that was impressive enough for paris to lift a brow at him. most teens their age, it felt, didn’t know any of these book beyond the bare minimum needed to pass a book report. 

‘you read?..’ 

‘wide and vast.’ he smiled brighter ‘hey, have you read _brave new world?’_

‘I have..’

‘well I just finished it, and I was doing some comparisons against orwell in the whole dystopia thing, and I think...’ 

and just like that, they were off. it was nice, paris considered, to at least have another person within the vicinity to talk about this with. he was no rory, but he could hold his own. and his own opinions weren’t so awful either.

about thirty minutes after, they – well, he – was approached by another piece of the group with a request;  _ey, riley, we’re heading out to the gazebo, c’mon!_ he, riley paris guessed, puts down his glass of the not real alcohol and asked her, bright-eyed, 

‘ _you wanna come?’_

for some unknown reason, paris said yes. she guessed it was a little better then just idling on her own.

they traipse down to the back yard of the mansion, paris and him taking their time walking a few steps behind, which sat on an incline overlooking out to the city. riley said, since his family has been invited over before, that the view was actually quite beautiful. 

‘it overlooks most of the city.’ he explains as they approach the edge of the grassy hill, letting the others head to the gazebo ‘so when it’s night like it is now, you can see it all lit up – here, see?’ 

paris steps up next to him in place, shoulder to shoulder so she could get a good look.  it was, in fact, rather pretty; you could see a good chunk of the city from here, starting to light up in many dots of white light now that the sun  had almost set, which coloured the sky in a dark purple. 

‘dare I say,’ he grins down at her ‘it’s not such a bad site to abandon our literary conversation for.’ 

‘yeah..’ paris agrees, head tilted as she admires the pretty set-up, paying just too much attention to notice him shuffling beside her ‘guess it could be worse..–’

he was too fast for paris to do anything. in a second, he had a firm clamp on her waist and was leaning down and his mouth was over hers. 

it was cold and wet. he tasted like that awful, trial champagne they were given. it goes on a second  before her reflexes kick in – 

and then she rips away and her palm hits hard against his cheek. he yelps and jumps what had to be fifty feet away. 

‘ _what the hell,_ jesus you’ve got mean swing, _christ,_ what’re you trying to do?’

‘what am _I_ trying to do?!’ paris roared, angrily wiping off her mouth with her sleeve ‘what about you – you think you can drag me out here and romance me just to get in my pants?!’ 

‘please, yell that louder. _no,_ I was just thinking by our conversation maybe you liked me, but this is possibly giving me some mixed signals..’ 

‘ _you think?!’_

‘c’mon,’ he leaned back in, drawing closer to her ‘I think you’re pretty and way smart and, I dunno, I thought we were having a pretty good conversation..’ 

paris felt his hand wrap around her wrist and instantly she pushed it away by indenting scratch marks.

‘ _don’t_ – I’ll break your fingers too don’t try me!..’

‘ _alright!’_ he surrendered, tossing up his hands ‘then..then if not..who-who is he?’ 

‘ _oh my god.’_ her eyes go back so far she _might’ve_ been able to see her brain ‘that’s what you think?! that just because I didn’t want to get with you there has to be another guy?!’ 

‘well..usually! and, you know, there’s _that_ too..’

he pointed a finger at her waist, to her hand exactly, and the  little plastic ring  that glinted through the dark. paris immediately curls up her hand, the other going over to cover it as she holds it to her chest, not wanting him to look at it. 

‘I mean, that’s obviously gotta come from a boyfriend, right? so isn’t there?..’ 

‘this is _mine,_ sorry to unravel your brilliant deduction, but it isn’t proof of anyone – so no!’ paris lied. well, technically it wasn’t a lie, on some regards. maybe it would’ve been easier to say yes just to get him off her back, since, apparently, a guy is more likely to respect another figurative guy then a girl’s wishes. but even _hinting_ to the idea she was with someone to anyone semi-near her parents would create a nightmare if they leaked it. 

‘seriously? okay, well, if...if there’s no one..then, what is it?..’

paris paused. besides being in a relationship with someone she truly cared about, there were no outside factor putting a stop in her way. she realizes, that at any other time before, she  _might’ve._

ignoring this instance right now, this guy would've been everything she liked. well-spoken, smart, actually knows his books and writers. and no would could argue he wasn’t good-looking. so, what was stopping her?

well..there was nothing  _here._

she had nothing  _for_ him. one could argue it was because rory currently took up all of it, but even then, she was scraping the bottom of the barrel for any desire leftover. she didn’t want to kiss that boy, or  _any_ boys. 

he was still staring at her, quirking his head at her internal revelation.

‘I don’t _want to,_ if that thought even occurred to you.’ 

‘but..you don’t have a boyfriend..’ 

‘ _oh jesus_ – well sorry to be the person to tell you this but those things don’t actually _need_ to overlap!’ 

‘okay, well, if you don’t have a boyfriend, and you don’t wanna kiss, then..I dunno, what’re you, like..like..’

‘like _what?’_

‘you know..’ he tried, eyes bugging out in emphasis.

‘what?!’

‘... _you know.’_ he tried again, gesturing vaguely as if it stood in for some kind of explanation, face contorted in a kind of awkward discomfort. it took a couple more seconds to sink in but when paris finally _did_ catch on, she felt both anger and panic hit her at the same time.

oh. like  _that._

_and what if_ _I am_ paris had to bite down saying. her temper was roaring in her ears but it couldn’t speak for her if she didn’t want to risk social suicide and disownment. instead she curls back her lips and folds her arms.

‘you know what, I have to leave if you _really_ think that _that_ is a more viable option then a girl simply not wanting you to stick your tongue in her mouth and act like you’re good at it!’

she turns away and stalks back up to the house, ignoring the calls that he was sorry and to stop. like him feeling bad had anything to do with his own morals and more her not wanting to make-out. 

she spends the rest of the time and drive home uncomfortable and somehow dirty, repeatedly wiping off her mouth. when they get home she takes a shower and brushes her teeth two different times. 

she wishes she could call rory. rather, she lays in bed and lets the night rewind in her head. she can’t get over the fact that if what had happened this year  _hadn’t,_ she might’ve let him. she might’ve put up with the mediocrity of a kiss and told herself the only reason she didn’t like him holding her was because she wasn’t a very romantic person anyway.

her bleeding heart for her girlfriend spoke differently. the way rory kissed her; making her a kind of  inexplicable happy, the way it felt like the exact kind of  _right,_ said everything. know she knew, what she could actually feel.

and it wasn’t with boys.

‘ _you might be..you know..’_

paris stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling,  hands curled into fists. she was breathing way to fast. 

she didn’t get any sleep that night. 

-

things slow down after that. 

it’s the second to last week of august now, so their vacation is approaching it’s close. no dinners and shows left to go out at night, and her parents have invested themselves elsewhere with her mother going out to lunches and her father spending all day on calls for work. not that it mattered to paris, really.

she was ready  for it  to be done. she was tired of being outside her circle and outside her routine. she was tired of having to walk down to the library nearly daily and hear from her girlfriend only through typed messages (and of constantly having to detail and type out her own days back).

because, as events and days slow, so does rory. 

maybe she’d thought paris wouldn’t notice, but she did. it’s not everyday now; there’s no fresh new message sitting in bold at the top of the inbox. there was a lag of a day or two. and even then, when they arrived, they were shorter. inconsistent. lacking the long details and usual effort rory gilmore put into everything she did (a charm paris loves). 

she figured whatever was drawing her attention elsewhere would come up. rory included every other detail to her life, why wouldn’t this count? and somehow she didn’t. she goes on about every other thing except  _whatever_ it was that’s keeping her so far away. 

it was never like paris to beat around the bush. she has no problem straight up asking –  _You’re taking days to reply and your emails are now a few paragraphs short. What’s going on?_

and then that, takes four  _more_ days. paris tries not to let that worry her when there’s not an immediate reply after she sends hers. rory’s cordial and fairly reliable, there has to be a reason. 

she’s not sure what it is though, and that creates a very fun scenario for her anxiety. in reason, it was probably something small going on with her mother that has her too busy to reply, something lorelai has roped her into. or even getting caught up in too much work or summer reading. rory is known to loose herself in novel pages.

the thing was though, is paris is prone to arguments, even with herself. her anxiety latches it’s pointy teeth onto her arm and says  _clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. after spending time away from you, she’s seen the better light and has stopped liking you after understanding how awful you are. c’mon, don’t be naive – why else would it take so long?_

_maybe she found someone else. maybe it’s that dean character, slinking back into her life._

_maybe she never liked you at all._

it was enough to make her go out of her skull. enough, by day three, to send another email, empty, with just the subject line  _ Well?!.  _ in bold. caps. 

well  _ obviously  _ everything else wasn’t working, she had to resort to some sorta drastics!

after that, day four, rory replies in an explanatory, if not sarcastically-laced, email. she says that’s been keeping her away, was none other then, stars hallow’s annual fall play. apparently, production had already kicked in gear and she’s somehow found herself in the midst of all in an honest effort to help.

that’s the  _ last _ thing paris would’ve suspected. but she’ll take it. even if she doesn’t understand how one small-town play can keep a person  _ that  _ busy.

still, at least she had an explanation for the lateness, even as it continued. it was hard not talking daily with rory. and now that there was little left to do at the end of the trip, one could really go stir-crazy. 

she just does more exploring, more traveling for the new excitements new york was not short of. while she was around, she figured she’d get some things. they have plenty quaint-and-cute literary stores, hip bookstores with t-shirts of famous book covers, message-in-a-bottle necklaces of favourite lines, specialty teas inspired by your favourite famous authors – whatever they could knock off to make money on, it was here. regardless, paris got rory a shirt of  _ emma  _ (suiting, because they’d been assigned the book for summer reading to then discuss in next year’s english class, and rory, who’s already read it twice, is so over the moon with ideas and thoughts to bring to the discussion) and a notebook with the cover inscribed with words of virginia woolf. she even got lorelai some famous new york coffee and a mug with the  _ central perk  _ logo on it. 

and waits to see their excitement when she gives the gifts over to them. 

or to finally see rory again and shake off her anxiety that never quite left.

-

they’d been home for only roughly twenty-four hours and paris was already pelting her way to the gilmore home. she was a little miffed, really. the plane had landed after seven and paris’s first inclination was to call rory. it’d gone to voicemail, which is, you know,  _fine._ but she hadn’t gotten a single call back all night, despite  _knowing_ rory wasn’t doing anything of dire  need. and now it was mid-afternoon as she drove over still without hearing anything and was her girlfriend who’d been gone a month not worth a single call? she huffed, tight grip on the wheel; she had some things to say, at any rate. 

she eventually pulls up to the quiet house. the faithful jeep was stationed next to her so it must mean everyone was still home. the engine shuts off and she kicks open the door, climbing down. she has points ready at the tip of her tongue, dying to get them out, already grumbling when she closes the door. what could rory have been doing that she couldn’t at least let paris know she got her call? she throw her phone out? she’d better have  _something_ good that was not just this fall play business.

there’s a sudden blur she barely catches coming from around the side, barreling right at her. there’s no time to prepare when it slams against her, arms locked around her shoulders and toppling her. paris scrambles, hands flailing and barely grasping the car handle, to save herself from the harsh fall of hitting concrete.

‘ _shit_ – jesus christ gilmore..’ paris stutters, finally regaining balance from the body currently latched onto her ‘there wasn’t an easier way to do that?!’ 

there’s a warm laugh against her neck, arms tightening around her. 

‘I missed you..’ 

and that’s it. 

all is forgiven. 

maybe paris will bring something up later (you’re more likely to spot a unicorn then paris geller letting go of anything), but not now. paris finally starts smiling after a months time and she breaks, arms coming around just as tight. the t-shirt currently pressed against her smelled like the familiar lavender and she’s falling right back into the warmth she’d been craving. both nestled so close, paris exhales easy and eyes close contently.

just for a second however.

‘I called you.’ paris says once rory lets go of her, hands coming up to slip around the others

‘phone’s on the fritz.’ rory explained, head tilting ‘I emailed you about it.’ 

that hadn’t occurred to paris. she rolls her eyes half way. 

‘excuses excuses..’ she mumbled, letting the slightest sarcasm seep out. rory grins.

‘make it up to you?’ 

‘how –’

she silences paris with a kiss. she seemed to be very fond of that. (un)fortunately for paris, she was too happy and had missed her so much that she kisses her right back for probably too long in the driveway, embracing like they were on the cover of a goddamn romance novel and paris had been away at war for a year, but neither could care.

they’d caught up, more formally, in town for (surprise!) ice cream. they sat outside, rory nibbling at her waffle cone and paris stirring around peanuts in her cookie dough, the opened bag of gifts by their feet (rory had, to no one’s surprise, absolutely loved the shirt and it got her discussing some more points she’d thought of when they start the overview in class) and going into  _why_ she bothered to read  _catcher in the rye_ when paris gave her several warnings not to.

‘it was the ending more then anything.’ rory told her ‘lazy endings are the worst – I spent all that time reading it and the ending was just a big let down, _claiming_ he changes without ever actually showing any build-up.’ 

‘ _I told you_ – it’s lazy writing and a complete _joke_ that it’s considered a literary ‘classic.’ this is how you know some classics are really only called that because some old men who were bad with women decided what was considered literary ‘art’.’ 

‘plus, just like..such an uninteresting protagonist – I was drowning in jaded whining by the end.’ 

‘exactly! honestly rory, why’d you even bother?! you could’ve spared yourself a lot of time and mental stress by heading my warnings to _not_ read that trash.’

‘yes but what’s the fun in that?’ 

rory grins. paris scoffs. she had another point to throw in, getting cut-off when a rather short, bald and huffing man came up to their table. 

‘rory!’

‘oh – taylor..?’ 

the mayor. paris remembers because she once  thought (but  refrained from  saying) that with the taking-this-way-too-seriously demeanor and shining clean head, he looked like the kind of cartoon character who’d run for mayor.

‘we need to talk about the prop set up.’ 

‘can-can it wait? I’m just in the middle of something.’ 

‘of what?’ 

‘I don’t think you’re indebted to _know.’_ paris growled. frankly, she was never in the mood for sharing, especially after she’d been away from rory for weeks. she went to squeeze rory’s hand where they were clasped under the table only to realize she’d pulled it away. taylor couldn’t have seen it and really no one else either but rory had a habit of doing it, of making sure nobody saw even a finger skim, to the point of ridiculousness like jumping away when paris puts a hand on her back in public.

_she wasn’t ready._ paris wanted to be mad but realized she couldn’t be at the end of it.

‘just..what-what is it taylor?..–’

‘no matter, if you’re too _busy._ it’s just that some of the props have been misplaced so you will have to work a double shift together with dean to make up –’

paris drops her ice cream cup. 

‘ _what?!’_

which of course hits her leg before clattering on the ground, smearing melted ice cream all down the side. 

‘– _shit!’_

‘okay uh, taylor, I’ll-I’ll be over soon I just can’t right now –’

‘yes yes, but listen, miss patty noticed that some of the colours on the various backgrounds stands don’t match up so maybe you and dean can spend closer time together, longer hours to discuss repainting –’

‘ _taylor –’_

‘ _closer?! –’_

‘ _taylor_ I’m going to have to talk later but yeah I’ll take that into consideration okay?! actually why don’t you go and tell them I’ll be sure to help..’ 

eventually the clueless mayor was able to be shaken off. rory had a single second to breathe out before nails wrapped around her arm like spikes, dragging her away to the back of the ice cream shop, disguised in the corner. 

‘ _alright –’_

‘par just wait – ’

‘don’t try to sweet nickname me! I am _so mad_ at you rory so you’d better spill a damn good explanation before I loose it!’ 

she’d already lost it. paris was livid. dean?! seriously?! rory hadn’t even mentioned dean would be a part of this project, let alone they’d be working together! and more then that, this had been going on for at least a couple  _weeks_ while she was blissfully unaware in ny. 

‘okay, just calm down, I _have_ a reason –’

‘ _don’t tell me to calm down!_ what the hell has been happening here when I’ve been away?! figured while your _girlfriend_ is off in another state now is the perfect time to cozy up to your ex?!’ 

‘ _no_ – firstly we were never official for him to _be_ my ex and that’s unfair –’

‘no, unfair would be spending time with an ex or whatever you wanna call it while never telling the person _you’re actually in a relationship with!’_

‘ _listen!’_ rory stomped her foot, somehow managing to project her voice over paris’s ‘I _wanted_ to tell you but you were away! I would think this is the kinda conversation we need to have together, not me mentioning it in the email I sent and you fuming thousands of miles away, spamming replies trying to know what’s going on. it wasn’t great either way but at least easier in person.’ 

‘right, because you don’t _love_ stalling on difficult subjects and talks –’

‘ _look_ – okay, fine, I’m sorry, but I still think this was better. I _did_ try to get out of it –’

‘well you did a _very_ poor job –’

‘ _but,_ they’re understaffed and no one else wanted to switch to props! I swear I didn’t want to do this either; it’s not a _whole lotta fun_ working in thin silence for hours on end with your ex..’ 

‘then just _quit,_ that surely has to be the next step!’ 

‘I..I can’t..’ 

‘I’m _sorry?!’_

‘I told you they’re understaffed! one person can’t do all that by themselves, they need me there –’

‘any lackey can paint some cardboard and paper mache gilmore! but, _great,_ if that’s it..’ paris wore an empty smile, holding up her arms ‘..if that’s where your priorities lie, if what’s more important to you is to help with a barely working play put on for some fifty nobodies and tourists then our relationship –’

‘paris if our relationship means _anything,_ if it’s worth it’s weight, then this won’t even scratch it!..’ 

silence. paris is out of daggers to throw, left to breathe heavy and grip her fists tighter. she’s still mad, let’s not forget that. but there was some tiny, hidden truth to rory’s point. the brunette had quieted too, sharpness dialed back and looking more open. saying nothing, she shyly leans in and takes her wrist.

‘paris,’ she sighed heavy, letting their gazes meet, wary and hopeful ‘do you trust me?’

‘..I, well..I just..’

‘ _don’t_..don’t try and give me a whole run around. just _answer.’_

paris will overthink until the cows come home. she thinks and digs through that question, putting everything to  trial. in the end, no matter how she flipped it, the answer was  _yes._ she’d done some kind of terrible things to rory and no matter what rory had always offered her kind heart in return; she’d earned the trust, in this regard.

‘...yes.’ paris finally whispers. 

‘see?’ rory tries for a smile, taking her other hand ‘..paris, I’m not sure how many times I have to say I like you for it to get through. before, in the beginning, I faltered because I was scared and could’ve kept running but I came back because I couldn’t ignore how much I liked you. all this time, and even before that, I could’ve gotten back with dean but I don’t want to. I’m _with you_ for a reason. and I..I’d _really_ hate to have to end it here – do you?..’

‘no!’ paris blurts, shooting up from where she was staring at her shoes ‘n-no – I..I just, I’m sorry, I..worry sometimes, but whatever..’ 

‘you don’t say..’ 

paris raises an eyebrow at the gentle teasing in blue eyes. the tension had at least died out of the air.

‘you’re still a liar..’ 

‘I know.’ rory admitted, nose scrunching up ‘I’ll fix it.’ 

‘how? you’d better have a better plan then earlier..’ 

rory almost gets out a laugh, smiling ‘well, first, lets get you new jeans..’ 

she wraps her hand around paris’s, pulling them out from the corner behind. she won’t keep holding it at risk of others seeing but, in the end, no matter what, paris loves rory’s hand in hers. she loves how it just fits. 

by the end of the night, rory has created plenty of promises as band-aids and made sure everything goes smooth. she has to make some extra time for the play, but she also makes sure to create some dates for them and only them to hang out. she even invites paris to come to the play rehearsals if she feels that inclined (under the provision that no fights are started and whatever sarcastic back-comment she has are said under her breath), which does make her feel a bit better. rory is attentive and present the whole night, so paris knew her sorry meant something. 

she rides back in silence, thinking. she ends up sitting in the driveway of her house for some time, trying to shake off whatever odd feelings that were clinging on. the lights lit up over the cobblestone parkway caused a glint to come off her ring. 

paris watches it. then slides her ring off, inspecting the small thing simply laying in her palm as outside lights glinted off the gold paint. _she wasn’t worrying,_ she had to remind herself. 

her fingers curl around the ring and holds it over her  chest. over the heart she can hear quietly thumping, eyes  squeezed shut. 

she holds on extra tight.

-

paris tried to be okay with the dean thing. 

she really did. it was the hardest she tried for anything. especially so for something that made her want to put her fist through a wall and when usually, her second instinct is to bite right down on that anger.

there were just so many things that sat the wrong way.

it was rory. it was rory lying and never telling her in the first place that this was going on. maybe it was true that she just never wanted to drag themselves into that conversation since you literally had to be stepping on rory to make her confront you. knowing that didn’t completely settle paris however. 

it was mostly him she was turning inside out over. like anyone fucking gets over a crush that easily. please. paris knows rory; one could even say well, by now. it was easier to walk on water then it was to not fall in love with rory gilmore. 

and to top it off, it was the fact that she couldn’t  _do anything about it._ she had to be silent and unattached to the entire thing, for saying something would pull the invisibility cloak right off them. and neither was ready to be out like that. instead, paris had to sit around and stew thinking about  _him_ hanging around her girlfriend. how he’s probably taking extra breaks to chat with her and letting his gaze linger too long over her and maybe  _even thinks_ this must be his redemption chance. all of that makes paris shake with crying anger and want to pull her hair right out (she did kick a dent into her nightstand and nearly broke a toe, so there’s that).

there’s even a secret, second layer of anger she’s trying to hold down. that she knows what the offer to get back with dean would be like for rory. that paris still knows how she is and that she’s difficult and impossible to be around and no one has ever liked her. it’s a miracle that sixteen years in with her sharp teeth and lava-hot temper she’s gotten anyone to like her, let alone someone like rory. 

it would be so easy for someone like rory to run from that difficulty to someone who could offer her better. 

it was all these things and more combined that made this situation miserable. and in reality, it was no surprise it would fall into this. 

rory’s make-up promises started crumbling the second they were instated. at first it was fine, and they got in a couple days to hang out as school began. sooner then later, after, rory started saying she was just too busy, between the play and school work. they could hang out there, but like a magic act rory would poof away when the last bell rung. sometimes paris wedged her way in; she called rory later so they could multitask talking while doing work, but half the time she seemed so far and distant in her talk, claiming tiredness. she used the go-ahead to drop by the rehearsals, angrily idling outside or around rory and making direct, rather frightening eye contact with dean who after a while started avoiding her entirely when she came around  _(good)._

she was slipping. paris could sense it. their talks, if they had any, were quieter. shorter. there was something terrible in the air around them and paris was terrified of the way it was clouding in. they’d sit at their library spot and never say anything and her panic would be throwing a temper on the inside but all she does is grip her pencil with white knuckles and stifle. 

because saying anything would be a danger. saying anything to rory would show she hadn’t let it go and drag them into that conversation again. it would show rory that she was bitter and never really trusts and she’s so much better off with dean anyway. 

and she wasn’t like that. she was  _fine._

the storms came to a clash on saturday. paris has now made her way through the second season of buffy, using the rare moments she wasn’t doing school work and when her parents weren’t around to monitor, and was about to watch the season final. some time ago, rory promised her they’d watch the final together, as they’d done with the first season. make a night out of it by hanging out at the gilmore house, with pizza and garbage snack food and the whole shebang. paris had been really looking forward to it; honestly, she was hoping that this’d be the redemption her and rory’s relationship needed. that this night could bring them back to before, and forget the stilted moments and silent air and growing distance that’d been happening. it could work.

it  _had_ to work. 

but it was downhill from the beginning when paris showed up at the gilmore home, even equipped with a plasitc bag of gas station snacks and rory’s favourite peanut-butter cups, and lorelai answered, saying she wasn’t home and still at the hollow’s  theater. teeth grit together and now fully vibrating in her anger, she sped over there to said  theater to expect to find rory bent over another backdrop as she paints – and instead rory was right there. with dean.

walking right alongside him up the steps of said theater as paris approaches, just the two of them _shooting the breeze_ as they chatted. and paris could hear the exact _crack_ reverberate in her chest.

‘so _this_ is the hardwork you were too busy for me for?!’

all heads of those mingling around turned to her but paris was so unbelievably mad and upset she doesn’t give a damn if everyone in this dink town saw her cuss out rory – who also swiveled her head, eyes popping wide in panic and only proving to paris that this was some act she clearly wasn’t suppose to find rory in.

‘paris! oh my god, what’re you – I, this isn’t – we were just coming back from break – wh-why are you even here?!..’

‘oh god forbid I come see you, wouldn’t want to interrupt your date here! or that I actually think you’re capable of holding your promises!’

rory, who had now rushed down the steps, squints for just a second until her eyes pop for a second time, a new look of realization and horror falling over her face.

‘ _oh my god,_ buffy, oh god, paris –’

‘there you go gilmore, great job! if only know we could go back twenty minutes ago to your house when I showed up to find you weren’t there!’ 

‘I totally forgot, paris, I’m so sorry –’

‘right, what a convenient excuse, especially to where I find you now with him!’ 

‘that’s not true paris, I _swear,_ I’m sorry I forgot –’

‘don’t bullshit me!’ 

‘uh, rory,’ now dean comes over, flicking his eyes between the two girls, the strange one in near tears and the one he knew equally distraught, as he tries to grasp what is happening ‘not to budge, but is there anything I can –’

‘ _you stay outta this farm boy!’_ paris has starting frothing at the mouth and rory has to leap in to yank her back as she lashes for him, also making him leap back _‘you’re goddamn lucky you’re still this close to me and not breathing from a tube –’_

‘ _okay,_ paris, we have to take this elsewhere –’

‘ _leave it!’_ paris yanks her arms out of rory’s grip, teeth barred to the upset written all over rory’s face ‘you’ve made your choices gilmore, so I’ll just stop getting your way!

and so she tried to, turning sharply and rushing off to her car in desperation to get out of this place and from rory and from her ripped heart now laying on the porch of stars hallow’s  theater. but of course, she should’ve known better, rory followed. raced after her and kept trying to pull her back.

oh how history repeats itself. but this time, paris was not going to allow rory to  whittle her way in and give in to her pathetic desires from falling for this girl. 

‘ _no,_ paris, stop!’ 

‘get away from me!’ 

‘I’m not letting you walk away!’ the defiant, almost crying voice was punctuated by a swipe at her elbow to pull her back, even as paris reached her car in the far-out parking-lot ‘just let me explain –’

‘you don’t have to explain _anything,_ I already understand it all!’ despite promises, paris spun back just to spit the words into rory’s face ‘this and the past few weeks have already said everything!’ 

‘you _don’t_ paris, can you just stop jumping to conclusions and let me talk –’

‘ _just admit it_ _then!’_

‘admit _what?!’_

‘admit you don’t want me anymore!’ paris roared, the rising lava starting to pour out, causing a snarl and deadly glare ‘admit you’re cheating, _admit it!_ all you give a damn about anymore is this play and being with _him_ that I might as well be a second-hand toy you’re getting ready to throw away for something better so save me the dignity and _say it!’_

rory doesn’t say anything. rather, she stares and stares with a muted look paris can’t read. she’s folding and unfolding her arms and biting into her lip, swallowing tight and something awful paris can sense in  those  blue eyes. she gets a sudden, sinking feeling that she’s gone and really broken something. 

‘..so that’s it then?’ rory finally speaks, quiet and cracked ‘how long have you been sitting on that paris?! how long until you felt ready to accuse me of it?!’

‘..you’re not denying it.’ paris growled, her own arms curling over herself. 

‘because I shouldn’t have to!’ rory yelled, stepping into her space and letting anger become clear as day ‘I have never lied and I _don’t_ think that! you can even ask him! but, you know, none of that seems to matter to _you,_ because you’re ready to accuse me of anything you like!’

‘can you blame me?! _look around rory_ – ever since this stupid play and _he_ re-entered, I can barely hold your attention for more then the half a minute of time you’ll give me! it’s always that you’re too tired, that you’re too busy, and now, _clearly,_ that you’d rather paint fake décor with him then spend the night in with me! I’m not _dumb_ alright, I can see what’s happening!!’ 

‘can you?! or have to you just created this wild scheme of me cheating just so you can get your kicks in a fight with me?!’ rory challenged, no longer looking remorseful as her own snarl comes over ‘I’ve been doing what I _can,_ trying to help here and then be with you and _fine,_ maybe I let the ball drop a bit but I’ve still tried to be there for us – meanwhile you’ve just been plotting and scheming for when you could blame me for some new problem _I_ started! looks like things haven’t really changed from the first time we met, has it?!’ 

‘ _don’t you throw this onto me!_ and looks like you’re right gilmore, things still are the same – me being foolish enough to believe your heart as genuine only for you to have been creating some way to see me hurt in the end! I should’ve fucking known from the beginning, when you gave me these lovey-dovey promises just so I could stand there looking like a lost pup in the parking lot for you and then _fucking pulling me back in_ by blaming it on ‘nerves’ only to throw me away for someone else later! I should've _known,_ I should’ve known before getting involved in this shit!’

‘ _god,_ just..you-you can be the _worst!’_ rory finally snapped in her own anger that was already too hurt to see the way paris’s face fell ‘I’m just trying to tell you that I’m sorry and doing all this stuff and you just refuse to let go of anything or _trust me_ and all you can do is be angry all the time and I am so tired of trying to do the right thing while your insecurities keep trying to sink us!’ 

that’s it. paris feels her heart hit the floor and shatter. her throat collapsed in and tears broke out. _the worst. the worst._ rory thinks she’s the worst. she knew it. she knew at the end rory wouldn’t want to stay with her because she’ll decide that she’s horrible just like everyone does. she can’t say anything, trembling and any words she attempted came out stuttered and gasping.

the person she thought the world of thought she was the worst.

she should’ve  predicted this. she should’ve known you can’t trust anyone but yourself and remembered how no one wants her anyway. now she’s standing here with a ripped, bleeding heart and she’s so upset she can’t do anything about it. except be mad that she opened herself enough to let this happen. rory’s gone quiet with the flames dialed down because she’s watching paris and maybe noticing the tears dripping past eyelids, looking ready to say something perhaps as a bandage but paris’s hurt burns over before that. 

‘ _fine!’_ paris screams, stomping and snarling ‘if I’m so awful why don’t you just break up with me gilmore?! huh?! what’re you waiting for?! if I’m the worst then I don’t want to _burden you_ by forcing you to stay! just relieve yourself of the pain you’re in and send me on my way!–’

‘ _..fine!’_

paris steps back. she hadn’t actually expected rory to say that. all this time, rory has never backed down. every time her fears got a hold of her tongue and lashed at her girlfriend, rory has refused to take them to heart, and instead followed after her and held out her hand. that’s how it’d always been.

but now rory is standing there with glossy eyes and trembling frame as she stared back with harshness and heartbreak – and she’s not speaking the amends she usually is.

‘you wanna break-up so bad paris, then that’s it! wish granted! saves me the effort of still caring about you and I can just go on being the terrible, horrible person who broke your heart by cheating! just like you wanted!’

it wasn’t at all what paris wanted, she realized as a second bout of tears welled and she saw rory start to turn away and all her fears screamed to call her back, to say sorry and whatever words would fix the wound of no longer having rory in her life –

but her anger was louder. it always was. so rather then  do that, her fists squeezed up and she let the lava pour out to leave burns  everywhere  as she screams back with cracked words, 

‘ _great!_ I never needed you in the first place so just go back to cozying up to farm boy and stay _hell out of my way!’_

the words only fell onto an empty parking lot as rory left without even a bite back, reverberating back to her. left alone. paris stood shaking with warm droplets still on her face and partly not even believing what happened. rory was actually..gone. 

_whatever_ . paris angrily swiped her sleeves over her wet cheeks, straightening up. good  riddance to her. 

she ripped open her car door and climbed in and drove as fast as she possibly could out of stars hallow. she didn’t stop the entire way, laser-focused on the road and not sparing a single thought to what she was suppose to do with those treats now and how tears were _still_ running down and _definitely_ not to rory who probably went straight home to cry in lorelai’s arms. _who_ _cares._

and paris didn’t stop  to think of any of that as she drove all the way home and parked her car and marched through the house ignoring her nanny’s calls of  _why she was home so early_ and walked right into her room and put on her pjs and crawled under her sheets. she didn’t think of any of it once. 

‘cause once she was under she hit exhaustion and fell right to sleep with her pillow damp from her cheeks and the horrible reality tomorrow will bring. 


	2. Chapter 2

she couldn’t get up.

paris was an early riser. she liked to maximize the most out of her day, and early rising meant she could get the most done. 

it’s eleven-thirty in the afternoon. she’s still in bed, covered in as many sheets as possible and arms around her pillow, face pressed against. she’s been awake for a while, and really, has just been dwelling in the mess of her thoughts and of her heart.

she’d been  _trying_ to get up, but every time she does she can’t. she’s exhausted, which is new for her. paris has roughly the energy of a small army of men, so she can usually go full-pelt for anything, even exam seasons, running on few hours of sleep to maximize studying time. 

this was a new kind of exhausted. this was an anvil on her chest kind of exhausted, a weight squeezing her heart kind of awful. everytime she thinks of what happened yesterday her throat closes up and the weight sinks right through and she could be sick.

it couldn’t have really happened, could it?

but it did. her and rory got into a massive fight and they screamed  and they broke up. rory called her  _the worst._

her nanny had come in soon after, for she knew it was odd for paris to sleep this late. paris did her best to shake her off, burying herself in covers, but she was convinced the young girl had to be ill for her to be so off. she tries to pull it out of her, concerned hands on arms and sweet voice paris knows from when she was little but it wasn’t doing anything. the more she asks  _what was wrong_ tears started stinging and paris only grew more upset, shoving back from the hand checking her  temperature and demanding space rather then the offers for warm drinks. 

‘ _I keep telling you I’m_ fine, _and what’s not helping is you poking and prodding me so just do me a favour and leave me alone!!’_

the woman knew paris well, and did as asked, quietly slipping out with the message that she could always find her later if she wanted. but paris refutes that help (yet, anyway).

deciding she hated being mopey, she finally slugged out of bed. there was homework to be done anyway. and she wasn’t going to let one fight and rory’s insults keep her from it. that, would be idiotic if anything. 

besides, she’s sure rory will call anyway. that’s what she does, what she’s good at. the making up and the nice words and knowing what to say. paris doesn’t even know where to begin with that.

so she throws herself into it. did some chapter reading, the last pages of a work booklet, anything else to keep her thoughts from wandering. it didn’t help that a lot of this  stuff, she worked on  it  with rory in collaborative study  sessions. there’s even little scribbled notes from rory hidden in page corners and tabs.

she only huffs and tears those parts out.

she keeps her phone in her  free hand  in waiting. hoping for the second it lights up, taking turns to glance at it. it didn’t light up. not once. she even opens it, checking her recent calls, just in case on the off chance she missed it.

nothing. 

that’s fine. they had all day for rory to come to her senses.

at one point, she  opened her phone and  pulled up rory without knowing why. maybe the brunette just needed a polite shove. maybe paris should try first, and they could mend this and take it all back. 

she quickly catches onto herself, though. scoffs and closes it and throws it, and the idea, away. she was not doing  _that_ to herself. rory was the one fraternizing with a past  relationship! she was the one who stopped spending time with her and let their relationship dwindle. she was the one who agreed to breaking up. she’s the one who has to say something.

so why wasn’t she hearing anything..?

hours churn and paris does her best to ignore the weight still sinking down, or her anxiety at the fact that her phone hadn’t rung once. 

she’d been denying it but the realization she’d been avoiding starts rushing over, crashing onto her like angry ocean waves, impossible to ignore. 

rory wasn’t calling.

she’d really broken up with her. she’d decided she was the worst and that she didn’t want to be with her. that’s it. 

it hit paris harder then she could imagine, fingers going white-knuckled curling around her phone. her breathing became too fast and she starting shaking,  gasps slipping out as her anger only grew.

it’s gone. one of the best things she’s  ever belonged to and one of the best people she’s  ever had have left.

‘ _..fine!’_ she screams to no one, throwing her cell down on the bed. her eyes has already become blurry with tears and her hands have found themselves in her hair. _overit’sovershe’sleftshehatesyou –_

anger speaking ahead of her, paris finds herself suddenly ripping the drawer of her bedside dresser open. she furiously digs through the pile of books until finding the familiar, yellow-worn copy of e.e cummings poetry with it’s highlighted prose and attached memory of a blushing rory. she pulls it out and then has her bedroom door open, flinging the book out in the empty hall. gone. 

but that doesn’t stop her tears or her upset so she goes to her closet and finds the shoebox filled with the copies of  _buffy._ picking it up, she marches out again and throws it hard to the floor, watching the tapes clatter across the ground.

she’s making a mess and being too loud  and  possibly disturbing her parents  as she breaks things but she doesn’t care. in fact, she  _dares_ her parents to come over, to even bother actually caring enough to see what was upsetting her. and she doesn’t care that flinging the tapes or book might mark up the walls or cause them to tear or anything. 

rory gilmore fucking broke her heart into something unmendable. she’ll ruin her stuff as much as she likes. 

it’s not making her feel better though and she’s just becoming a storm of red and screams as she desperately tries to cleanse, to get rid of any evidence of what,  _who,_ hurt her so much she feels like she couldn’t breathe. she’s circling her room, hands back in hair, wanting to get a hold of everything but by now anything she had to grasp was gone and she just keeps winding herself up.

‘– goes and says she likes me so much and then goddamn cheats on me and then says _I’m so awful –’_

she’s pacing and it’s becoming impossible to keep a cap on until she finally catches herself in her dresser mirror – the red cheeks, the tear stains across them, her puffy eyes. it’s a mess. 

and then something on her finger catches a glint of light.

her head whips down to her ring, still resting on her  finger. still holding the affection that apparently was as fake as the gold paint on it. she can still picture rory smiling as she slides it on, her warm fingers over her own. 

‘ _there. now we’re both set.’_

red bleeds over and paris rips the ring off and chucks it as hard as she  can. it hits the frame of the mirror and then she hears the tinest  _snap_ sound, another gold piece flying off  before the ring finally hits the ground. 

her stomach plummets. 

she rushes forward, leaning across the dresser to the corner it landed. crouching down, she can see that half of the band had broken off, leaving only half a side on the right. and that the heart centered in the middle had come loose, hanging off, barely holding onto the cheap plastic. 

that’s when the last crack broke the foundation. 

she broke it. it’s broken.

everything’s broken. 

paris falls back, sobbing. the cries shake her, loud in the sudden silence of the room. her back hits the footboard of her bed and instantly, she draws up her knees, burying her face to hide it all. she doesn’t move until her nanny, after hearing the commotion, steps through the landmine of tapes and crouches by her side and paris grips her arms tight around the consoling older woman like she was the only thing that could ground her, hiding the thick cries in the embrace.

she couldn’t  hide it though, not even if she wanted to.  she couldn’t hide that it was all broken now. 

and so was she. 

-

the irony of this predicament is not lost on paris.

she’s back to standing in chilton’s courtyard, head tilted back as she watches the building. and the feeling of nerves is monumental. 

it took enough nerve to just get here. of course, paris wouldn’t dare miss out on any schooling for anything – no matter how much it still stung, no matter how frightened she was. if there was anything, it was was that she refused to be bullied out of getting her education and carving her path to her future, over this. 

even if she was slightly worried she might throw up. 

back here at school and it’s hard for paris  _not_ to wonder. not to want to know if rory lost sleep like she did, if it was as difficult for her to get here this morning. if she looks as miserable as paris feels.

but at that same time, the idea of even meeting rory’s eyes after they’d screamed and cried and tore each other up is enough to  _make_ her want to run away. there’s no way rory’s missing school.  honor role getting, harvard bound rory gilmore doesn’t miss school, and paris was at lease humble enough to admit not even her being here could detour the brunette. her stubbornness had as big of a head as her own. 

now the matter is, who’s going to break first if they see each other. who’s going to let tears crack or rush over and say  _I’m sorry I’m sorry_ because just the mere glance of the other person was enough to see how much you can miss someone. 

and paris does miss, quite a lot. god she missed her so much.

but the one thing paris geller doesn’t do, is give into weakness. so she’s just going to have to slip back into her mantra that  _rory gilmore was not going to win over her._

locking her jaw and gripping onto her bag, paris stormed forward. right into the dragon’s mouth. 

she knew how to avoid rory, thankfully. she knew the spots she  ~~ they had ~~ liked to hang out at before bell, and she knew the times she went to get stuff out of her locker. so when she had to retrieve her own things, rory wasn’t there yet just like she thought, and she was able to switch her binders and get her math text out. then she went to go sulk in the south wing, far from rory’s  preferred morning reading spot near her first geography class in the east wing. 

perfect. and she was able to silence the thoughts so far; the unfair, quietly spoken ones that bloom solely from her heart that want to see rory. and not just to check that she  looked as awful as she did, but more, to simply see her because the fondness for her did not simply wash away in  that little time. she went from spending nearly every day with her for seven months, how the hell was she suppose to just be without her now?

she doesn’t dare give into herself though.

she throws herself into school work, into lessons, to avoid the gloom still sitting on her shoulders and her dreary heart barely on it’s way to mending. and it works, actually, for the most part, all her attention to chalk boards and texts, even during lunch when she went off by herself to sit alone in the hall, glaring back to the odd looks she was getting. she didn’t manage to think on rory more then once, nor had she even bumped into her yet, so it was off to a good start. 

until the dreaded english class.

paris had been amping herself up all day for this.  _it’ll be fine, just ignore her, sit at the front this time, you know she’ll be too scared to even come up to you. it’s fine._

she only sort of believes it. 

she gets there ahead of rory, which made it harder to choose the spot to be the farthest away. she heads for the front of the class anyway, far enough and medina’s voice will drown out rory from the back of her head anyway.

now it’s a waiting game. fun. 

she waits in anxiety for the moment rory comes through the doors. behind her, she can hear madeline and louise gossiping, eyes melting the back of her head. clearly, they’d noticed the miserable disposition and how, after joining hips to rory, they were suddenly far apart. it takes all her willpower not to turn around and give them the chewing out they deserved. if she wasn’t going to let rory see her like this, then she  _certainly_ wasn’t going to give  _them_ the satisfaction. 

but rory never comes.

the bell goes and medina starts his lecture. they go ahead and start bringing out copies of  _emma,_ medina going into details and plucking thoughts from various students – the thing rory had been talking about for months in an unshakeable amount of excitement. and she wasn’t even here for it. that can’t be right.

when class is done, she approaches medina behind his stack of paperwork over his desk.

‘ms. geller!’ he brightens, sending her a smile ‘what can I do for you?’ 

‘where..where’s rory?..’ paris stutters out, clutching onto her books tighter ‘..we were suppose to start working on the –’

‘oh, right – you two have suddenly become quite the duo huh? glad to see we’re finally putting differences aside..’

paris swallows tightly. he shuffles a stack of marking, sighing. 

‘well, I’m not really sure. I was just told from the office that her mother called in to say she was sick..’ 

paris stands, gaping. rory doesn’t get sick. in fact, she looked perfectly healthy the last time she saw her. plus, even in may when she caught that surprise flu bug, she’d come in, despite being an unhealthy shade of white and getting woozy even when sitting down.

‘paris..?’ medina raises a brow, leaning closer over to her ‘everything alright?..’ 

‘ _fine.’_ she spits out. she feels inexplicably queasy. the hole in her suddenly sinks deeper and deeper. 

_well that’s it. it’s really real now, isn’t it?_

‘it’s.. _fine._ thanks _.._ ’ she stumbles out. before medina has any opportunity to question it, she runs out the classroom into the hall. 

she pushes by milling bodies, growling  _move!_ with every shoulder bump. it’s like  there’s no air in here and her throat is getting tighter . and she knows it’s becoming more and more obvious by the peering looks she’s getting.

she barely makes it to the girls washroom in time. she throws the door open, storming into the first empty stall. desperate fingers grasp the lock and slam the door closed behind her.  _safe._

she’s breathing heavy. she’s trying to get it under control and it’s only spiraling. her back stumbles into the wall and her legs go out without effort, sinking to the floor. 

_it’s real. rory’s not here. it’s really real._

she doesn’t know why this is hitting as hard as it was; she, technically, already knew well that her and rory were split and broken (if the breakdown had anything to say by it). but  perhaps that was her  first realization, of actually seeing that this inexplicably amazing thing paris had with her had tumbled down and it breaking  _wasn’t_ just some terrible nightmare of hers. and that, as the  _nothing_ that she’d heard from rory since spoke, there wasn’t going to be any mending to it.

but now, it was truly standing right in front of paris. if rory wasn’t here then that meant it hurt too much to even see each other. that it was so bad it meant it triumphed over showing paris up by pretending to be fine and over her grades and everything important to rory. 

the tears come unforgiving and she wraps herself up, arms around knees, the stifled sobs letting the hurt make the hole bigger and drag her in. 

-

when she gets home, she’s exhausted. 

she has a particular system when she comes home from school. what she hasn’t already finished, she sets up at her desk in her room; prioritizes what needs to get done first, what’s easy enough to do offhanded later. paris never puts anything off.

today, the second she’s in her bedroom, she very well collapses. she changes clothes and then just climbs back into bed, wrapping sheets around her to hide herself. sinking into the softness to forget, hiding from the reality of what she lost and of how broken-hearted she was that she couldn’t ever admit till now. she doesn’t even cry. she’s just tired. 

she sleeps through the late afternoon, ignoring the world moving around her. she doesn’t get up until she’s called for dinner, only able to finish maybe a quarter of her meal. her nanny is still prodding, prying for whatever is that has hurt her so much that caused the outburst yesterday. paris was able to shake her off, tie together some lie that got her off her back. what was she  suppose to say anyway?

_oh yeah, my first girlfriend and I fought and now we’re broken up and it hurts so much I don’t know if it’s something I’m suppose to be able to get over._

and she had no idea how to fix anything. there’s a deep, unexplainable need in her to; to take these pieces and figure out how they can fit again with new cracks and chips. it’s an insane idea if anything but maybe, just maybe, there could be a way out. because her and rory, and maybe she’s a little disillusioned on this, but they match in a way paris was sure no other person experiences. they fit and it doesn’t totally make sense for how different they are, but they absolutely do, and it seemed to be nothing if not idiotic to throw it away, even with how bad it was and how shattered paris understands it is.

however, paris knows herself – and knows  the  one thing she’s not good at, is mending. that would include being good with feelings and how to express them, and more or less, admit you were wrong. paris is going on sixteen years of never stepping off her own pedestal, and now, to take that steep leap down is rather unnerving. 

she’s walking back to her room after dinner when it occurs to her. or really, where it directly hits her. she’s opening her door and stepping past her dresser, eyes to her homework and wondering if she has the energy to look at it – 

‘ _ow!_ what the –’

she reels back, holding up her stinging foot by her hand. what the hell was in her carpet?! this whole room was spotless, what could – 

oh. 

it’s obvious when the piece glints beneath her. she reaches down, plucking the broken ring from where it was smushed in the carpet. the heart was still dangling off, the band still missing it’s half, and it  _still_ made her wilt. she wasn’t sure what she was suppose to even do with this now. was she suppose to throw it out? she hated that idea; the ring, despite of circumstances, meant way too much to simply be tossed out like trash.

maybe it didn’t need to be totally disregarded. the thing was rather simple; surely they could use something else to replace the end that’d broken off the band. and, the heart, well, that could easily be done with some superglue and then, just like that, it could live again. it might be a little clunky, not as perfect as before, but with some effort on her part and glue, maybe…

paris nearly drops the ring, eyes going wide. that’s it. 

she just needed  to see exactly where and how it needed to be fixed.

and really, she couldn’t believe that  _she,_ paris geller, nearly gave up. 

she rushes across her room, snatching her keys from her desk, and a jacket from her chair. she runs down the many staircases until she’s at the front door, struggling with her shoes. she barely has time to answer her nanny’s befuddled  _where are you going?_ with a simple  _out, I’ll be back soon!_ before she was out the house and in her car, driving off.

lets hope the leap down was enough.

-

because of her kindness, this means when lorelai was upset it was ten-times as frightening. 

‘kid, _no.’_

paris swallows again, feeling rather small and unprepared on the porch there, under the pointed look of rory’s mother who blocked the open door. why was  it so much worse to disappoint lorelai then her own parents?

‘lorelai, _please._ you have have to let me in!’

lorelai sighs again, pressing a palm over her forehead ‘look,  right now, wounds are still fresh. I can’t let you in.’ 

‘but I’ve realized my mistake, I’m here to amend it! I-I just, rory, she has to know, I didn’t mean what I said –’

‘that’s not really the point kid.’ lorelai folded her arms and casts the disappointed look to paris, reminding the teen that she was an actual adult and parent even if it didn’t always seem like it ‘the point is rory’s upset and now isn’t the time for her to see you.’ 

paris deflates, left without anything to say back. she  _knew_ rory was upset, that’s exactly why she was  here! she was also upset and it was of the upmost importance that rory knew what she said meant nothing. that she was owed an apology. but  _she_ had to know that lorelai had the authority and was only protecting her daughter’s sunken heart. there was not much that could be done to dissuade her.

or, paris thought,  with one way closed off, maybe she didn’t have to give up entirely. 

‘...then, if you won’t let me in, I’m respectfully going to stay here until she decides to speak to me.’ 

that lorelai wasn’t expecting. she blinked back at paris, unsure if she heard  correctly.

‘..what, you’re just going to stay out here until you freeze?’ 

‘if it gets to that..’ paris admitted, straightening herself up for a long night of waiting. she was already here and she already knew how much rory meant to her – so if it took waiting till the cows came home, so be it. another sigh, lorelai pinching the bridge of her nose. 

‘god, you really are a stubborn kid..–’

‘mom..’ 

paris’s heart leaps. lorelai whirls around and paris has to peer past the lean body, into the house. rory stood far inside, watching them warily. she was still pj clad with hair halph-hazardly up, a sign she hasn’t moved much in days. eyes were red and puffy, without their usual light. paris’s previously elated hearts crashes down. rory’s staring right at her, trying to  gauge.

‘it..it’s okay..’ 

lorelai wasn’t convinced, furrowing as she walks over to rory. paris barely hears the hushed, urgent whispering between them, lorelai’s worry and rory’s assurance. in the end, paris knows lorelai respects her daughter’s independence and choices – even if they might be wrong to her, it was for rory to realize that. eventually, with one final cautious look to paris, she squeezes rory’s shoulder and slinks off somewhere else.

and oh so slowly, rory approaches her. 

it had to be the longest walk possible. paris felt like she could come out of her skin with the still silence, staring right through her feet as she waits. rory finally moves past the doorway, out to the deck with her where they stand opposite, about to face off in the battle of hearts. rory takes turns looking at her and the floorboards, gripping and ungripping her folded arms. 

‘...well?..’ she finally asks. paris takes in a breath, swallowing.

‘...you weren’t at school today.’ was all she could say. that said enough about the situation already.

‘I know..’ 

‘...we finally started austen today..”

‘ _I know.’_ rory sighs, lowing her arms ‘I just..the, the idea of seeing you, and it being like..like _this,_ it-it made me feel _sick,_ I couldn’t..’ 

paris didn’t know what to say to that. it was more then fair; she was very nearly sick in the girls washroom after all. her eyes fall down, squeezing her folded arms around her middle.

‘...is that it?’ rory prompts. they both know it wasn’t. it was only a matter of speaking what paris drove all the way here – late at night, in distress – to say. or if she would at all.

it was harder to say then she  thought; pride could be quite a thorn in the side. she guessed she was her parents daughter after all. rory  noticed her silence, clearly not interested in her time being wasted, face turning into a glower as paris bit into her cheek. she didn’t bother saying anything in that case, paris watching her slowly start pushing on her heel back to the door – 

‘I was _wrong.’_ paris blurted, throwing her hands down, turning to them to fists as she squeezed her eyes shut ‘there – I’m sorry, alright? I never should’ve accused you..’ 

she sighs out heavy, the weight on her chest finally tossed off. rory stalls, mid-turn, watching closely and not saying anything except a wordless  _continue._ paris takes in another breath.

‘I-I don’t know why I do this. why..why I can’t trust completely and why I always have to accuse you, I-I just – I dunno, I guess I’m not as confidant as I thought and I scare more easily then I said, and maybe-maybe you can blame that on cold, pressuring parents and that I didn’t get a mother who tried to be my best friend or even said she liked me, but, I..I..’

she’s on a tangent again. she’s pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes and trying to get a hold of her stuttering breaths. rory’s moved from glowering all the way to concerned and paris can see she’s two seconds away from her name leaving pink lips but she has to get through this first. 

‘but I really think it’s because you’re one of the best things to happen to me.’ 

this stopped rory again, but from shock, blinking back. but paris held her ground and her word, finally looking back at rory head on through the glossy gaze. 

‘I’ve never..had anyone like you in my life. I’ve never...cared about someone as much as I do you. I like you so much it’s stupid and it’s totally freaking me out, so when all this came about with dean and everything I guess I went on a bender. better to you know...loose you on my own terms then hang on and just end up loosing you to someone else, someone better..’ 

‘..you were never loosing me.’ rory finally spoke, voice nearly as quiet as the small-town-silence covering them. paris sighed, straightening up a bit more.

‘I know. but..it’s just as you said..how I feel about you is bigger then how scared I am..’ she concluded, sighing out heavy ‘so..so I wanted to say sorry, and I know I can be the worst and you didn’t deserve being yelled at, but if you just give me an opportunity to..–’

‘no, no paris,’ now rory came forward, hand outstretched to her ‘that was unfair, what I said. I didn’t mean it and I shouldn’t have said it..’

paris swallowed tightly, teary eyes kept to the floorboards even if she could feel rory’s burning into her.

‘it’s true though..’ she muttered, trying to hold down any more emotion crawling out of her throat. 

‘I still shouldn’t have said it. and no,’ 

her wrist is grabbed and that gets her head to come up. rory’s watching her closely, earnest.

‘it’s not. I mean..people have flaws, but saying what I did was still cruel. and c’mon, like I’m perfect either?’ there was just the smallest flicker of a smile, a lightness finally coming back that makes it easier for paris to breathe ‘..I should’ve told you, and not just have ignored your concern over me hanging around dean. waiting to tell you about him and the play and all in person ‘cause I thought it’d be easier or not, I should've just been clear from the beginning. you’re right that I was just trying to avoid the conversation and potential confrontation anyway and I get why you accused me. I guess I sorta deserved it..’ 

paris nods, at least somewhat glad rory said that ‘...and I get why you got mad at me, I probably would’ve too..’ 

now, rory does smile.

‘I guess..there was a lot of mutual messing up. but you know what they say..’ rory reaches for her other hand, pulling her in a bit more ‘third times the charm..so, if you wanna press reset again..’

all the weight suddenly slipped off, paris feeling herself grow soft. rory making it up to her after leaving her standing in the school parking lot, her figuring out how brave she was to disregard her ‘friends’ and the mistakes she’d made about her to finally start letting her in more, all that felt like so long ago. it’s amazing in how such a short period you can grow so much, how you can become so fond of someone and build a relationship so unimaginable months ago. 

all she can do is press down the lump in her throat and nod quickly, arms quickly going around rory’s waist and  holding on tight. rory’s came around her as fast, squeezing. she doesn’t know how long they  stood there on the porch, holding close, both sinking into each other and the feeling of bruises being mended. no one wanted to let go. paris was pressed against rory’s warm shoulder, eyes shut, and she could feel rory’s nails with their chipped polish pressing into her shoulders.

remembering what was in her pocket, was what got them to separate, paris peeling off.

‘wait, wait..’

‘what?..’ rory peered at her, hand clasped on her waist.

‘there..there’s just..’ 

paris stuck her hand in her pocket, fingers wrapping around the tiny piece nestled inside. she brings it up between them, revealing the broken ring in her palm, the heart wilted and hanging off it’s frame. she noticed rory’s surprise right away as her brow drew up, hand cupping under her own to inspect it.

‘I-I broke it..I..’ she gasped quietly, quickly wiping her free hand under her teary eyes ‘I’m _sorry,_ I..I just..I didn’t mean..–’

‘par.’ rory smiled, which was odd against paris’s tears but maybe after all that’d happened, she found it endearingly odd that _this_ was what she was upset about ‘it’s okay. we can fix it.’

that cut off  the panic, anchoring paris. she blinked away a couple more tears, gaze pouring into rory’s, into blue, and she felt hope start to ease her erratic heart.

‘..swear?’ she whispered. 

the smile only grew. slowly, rory’s fingers curled over her own, over the ring, gentle and sure and holding them together. 

‘yeah. we’ll fix it.’ 

-

‘wait, so it’s an actual _ball?..’_

paris sighs, tossing her hands up ‘it might as  _well_ be; just, without the ballroom dancing, thank god. every year my parents invite the rest of the elites to the house for drinks and dinner and we dress like the family of some royal bloodline.’ 

‘gatsby worthy, I’m sure.’ 

‘it makes gatsby’s parties look like intimate get togethers.’ 

paris appreciates the  _‘woah’_ she gets in return, taking the freshly peeled carrot from rory. stars-hallow was having some sort of outdoors food festival thing, and next to every family has been put in charge of making something, the two teens having been turned into free labour. frankly, paris still doesn’t understand this town, and she doesn’t think she’s ever going to.

it’d been about a month since the bad stuff. there’d been a few bumps to get over at first but things were a lot better. rory dropped the play soon after, without paris even asking which surprised her, but was secretly happy to see that rory was no longer going to skirt her concerns, no matter how erratic. in return, paris has tried to keep those concerns and outbursts to a minimum; trying to remember, that she trusts and cares about rory, and to randomly get mad at her over things does not help. they ended up actually finishing the unwatched buffy finale and the stilted air had now started to thaw and things finally felt _good_ again.

her ring, sitting on her pinky,  now  had a thin scrap of duct-tape to improvise the bit that broke off and the heart was superglued back to it’s place. everything, was looking a lot better.

‘trust me, I’m not looking forward to it..’ 

lorelai, who was stirring something over the stove, leans her head back ‘here’s what you do – you purposefully use the salad fork for everything but the salad and then you ‘accidentally’ knock over someone’s red wine onto the satin table cloth and your mother is so mortified by your bohemian behaviour she banishes you from the dinner and you sneak out your bedroom window.’ 

‘this can’t possible be from personal experience, can it lorelai?’ paris grins. rory bumps her shoulder.

‘there’s a reason mom used chopsticks yesterday to flip the chicken she was grilling when she couldn’t find the spatula.’ 

‘it’s called _improvising_ – future scholars will quote me on this, just you wait!’

no matter the jokes she’s thankful for, paris was still dreading the dinner. she never truly understood it; yes, she was raised in the elites and knew exactly how to act and say every polished word, but it didn’t mean she ever really enjoyed making fake conversations with essential strangers and pretending to like it. she was more then willing to have an interesting talk but no one wanted to participate; just like her mother, not a single adult at the table wanted to hear her opinions or thoughts or anything beyond the polite greeting and  _yes I’m enjoying and doing well in school._ plus, it was a real time sucker too, especially when she could be doing something valuable like school work or reading instead of being paraded  around.

she has to get up early  too,  to put herself  together. showering and styling up her hair, pulling on the complicated dress that was always uncomfortable and put on jewelry that weighed as much as a baby’s head. she was dreading it before it even started.

by 5:30, she’s standing by her mother, just off the front doors that opened to the foyer. the first few cars had started to arrive and her father had gone off with the staff to greet them. she could feel her mother’s eyes drawing over her, but she wasn’t paying close attention, instead looking off to the grandfather clock against the wall. at this rate, she could be counting at least three and half more hours before dinner would even be over – 

her mother suddenly snatched up her hand, making her jump. she was glaring down at the heart ring sitting on her pinky. paris felt dread jump down her throat. 

‘..that’s plastic.’ she immediately criticized, peering down and crinkling her nose ‘where did you get that?’ 

‘nowhere..’ paris mutters, pulling her hand away. her mother glares back.

‘why is there _tape_ on it?’

‘because it was _broken –’_

‘don’t talk back to me!’ came the snap of teeth, the only sound that could chase away paris’s anger after years of it’s scald ‘why do you have it?’ 

paris’s mouth is all dry. she molds her other hand around the ring, holding it to her chest like a protective cloak. the more her mother glares the higher the anxiety goes over her head. she knows she has to spit out something so she stumbles, 

‘no reason..’

‘..it’s gaudy.’ she pries paris’s hand from where she’s curled it in, the teen flinching _‘and_ broken. why would you wear something like that? god paris the one time I can get you to dress nicely, to dress like you should, and you’re wearing dollarstore garbage –’

‘I –’

‘take it off.’ 

paris pales. instantly, her fingers wrap around the ring. it wouldn’t, hypothetically, be the worst thing in the world. put it away, and then, in an hour or so, put it back on. she didn’t want to  _have to_ but it could be worse. 

paris doesn’t. she holds and clings onto the dinky piece of plastic. she wasn’t sure why. maybe it had to do with repeatedly looking into the mirrors and not recognizing herself. looking in and seeing this ugly coloured dress that never suited her and sparkling crystals around her collar like she was the  _best dressed_ prize on display.

the ring brought her back. the ring reminded her that no matter how her parents wanted to dress her up she was  _her_ underneath it all and she couldn’t be scrubbed out.

‘I..I want to keep it on..’

the words were the quietest bomb detonating the room. her mother knows how to compose her emotions where paris didn’t but that didn’t stop her from catching the flinching, the sliver of enraged surprised because paris never dared to speak out (with them anyway). 

‘what was that?’ she hissed. 

paris’s core shakes. she squeezes onto her hand until the ring started cutting into her palm, making a heart indent.

‘I don’t –’

‘it isn’t _about you.’_

she snatches paris’s hand and this time paris really does jump. she glowers as she grips her daughter’s hand and makes point of looking her straight in the eyes while ripping the ring right off her. 

‘I will not have you wearing something like this while we’re trying to _entertain guests._ and frankly, I won’t have you wearing it _at all._ ’

in a second her mother had the ring in her hand and was tossing it in the direction of a nearby side table showcasing some art piece. paris choked on her  _no!_ when the ring went skidding across the top and slid down the crack of space between the table and wall, into the darkness.

paris could’ve cried but then nails were digging into her forearm as the guests start filtering in, the hand steering her towards them. the steel look showed her mother was done talking to her, but regardless, paris still hears the  _behave._ the  _be on your best behaviour and shut up._ the  _smile and look pretty._

‘ _it isn’t about you.’_

no, it never really was, was it? 

paris wilts and keeps her head down for the rest of the night. she played the perfect daughter for them, like she always does. keeps her tongue down and answers every inquiry someone bothered to ask her.

once the dinner was past, the wives left to chat and the husbands returning to the parlour for drinks, it meant paris could escape. the social requirements were filled, where everyone was done pretending to be interested in talking to each other, and she wasn’t expected or wanted, to follow. she runs away the second she could, back to the foyer. she kneels by the tables and inches it back, prying it until she catches the fake glint of the gold paint. relief floods in and she snatches it, a sigh escaping  as she clutches it to her heart, after running up to her room.

when she’s inside and the door is closed, she can breathe properly. her back hits the door and she’s altogether grateful for the quiet and the sectioned off space. she brings up the hand holding her ring, and then slides it onto it’s rightful place on her finger.

there.

she still didn’t feel as good as she wanted. 

she wandered back to her bed, near her bedside table still sporting it’s semi-fresh dent. she starts pulling off the jewlery that wasn’t her ring, trying to wash out her parents image. she was thinking of getting rid of the dress next, but then she sees her cell lying atop the stand. 

huh. 

without really processing it, she suddenly has it in her hand, making a rush dial in her contacts. she sits on the edge of her bed, anxiously waiting as it rings.

‘paris, hey!’ 

‘hi..’ paris sighs in relief at hearing rory’s voice ‘sorry for calling late..’

‘she says, having repeatedly called me at whatever time to reveal every thought on the latest buffy episode. s’ok. you just caught me right in the middle of plath.’

‘oh. I can uh, call back if –’

‘no! no it’s okay, it’s not going anywhere. what’s up? aren’t you suppose to be at that dinner thing?..’ 

‘yeah, it just finished..’ 

‘and how was that?’ 

paris let out some kind of flat-lined groan from the back of her throat. 

‘huh.’ was all rory could really say

‘whatever, it’s done now. I don’t need to scar you with the details.’

‘appreciated. so um, what’s going on then, why’d you call?’

paris doesn’t know how to say it. she doesn’t know how to say that she had a horrific night. she doesn’t know how to say that she feels sick living in her own house sometimes. that she was a dress up doll for her parents and a prop for what were the social requirements for them. that they didn’t know who she really was and that they’d never care to. 

instead, she stalls. she pulls at her comforter and squeezes her eyes shut. 

‘well, um..it’s, uh, it’s..’ 

‘par? you okay?..’

she didn’t know what was wrong with her. she trusted rory. so why was it when she was in actual  _control_ of her heart, she couldn’t spill out her emotions?

‘it’s..it’s the..–’

‘the dinner?..’ 

paris sighs heavy and that says enough. her grip tightens around her phone and her throat has closed in. still, rory says,

‘..yeah – right, I get it.’

‘I’m sorry..–’

‘don’t be. you can always talk about it..– if you want..’

she stalls. she had about a million and one things she could say. plenty of things about her parents she could dwell on and be upset about. she sucks in a breath and speaks,

‘tell me about plath gilmore.’ 

‘what?..’ 

‘c’mon. you always have something to say, a review, to give.’ 

‘but...but don’t you –’

‘I know what I want. and I want to hear you tell me all your particulars.’ 

it’s with a bit of reluctance, but eventually rory does. they get into the thick of it, into the inner workings of the words and the story and all of it. 

and they argue and  then paris gets to do the thing she loves with  rory – getting into the grit of books. and the memory of tonight starts to fade in the back of her head. and the talk goes for an hour till near the end when rory suddenly says, 

‘hey par,’

‘mm.’

‘..you know, you aren’t them, and I know it’s not the same, but..mom is already asking about when you get to come for the next dinner and movie so she can show you all the eighties classics you missed out on.’

and paris finally starts smiling for the first time this evening.

-

okay, so, maybe paris is feeling a little bit of guilt.

she has a deep respect for lorelai – which is odd, considering lorelai wasn’t the exact description of usually important people she admired. but that’s besides the point. she loves the mother. and she knows some of that is given back because lorelai let them stay in the house alone, just for twenty minutes tops, as she runs back to the inn for something. she knows paris is a respectable guest, and she trusts her daughter plenty too. 

and rory  _was_ a good kid. and even if not, she’d learned a lot from the ‘punishment’ of  disapproval and making dinners for her, and paris’s, earlier lies.

that’s why the fact that rory’s tongue is currently in her mouth and her fingertips are under the hem of the sweater, is very contradicting. 

she does feel bad. it’s just very hard to focus on feeling bad but _also_ the soft and warm skin of rory’s stomach against her fingertips as it gently raised up and down. or when it stuttered as rory gasped against her tongue starting to stroke the brunette’s. she wants to do the right thing but quite honestly, with rory half-way in her lap and getting to _touch_ after countless times staring at those pale legs under the plaid skirt and ignoring thoughts of trailing her fingers over, it was impossible to think of anything else _other_ then that. she was shocked her brain hadn’t completely melted out her ears by now. 

she’d always considered herself above her horomone-riddled peers who were always, it seemed, lip-locked like this, and so it was embarrassing enough to find herself in the same position. and it’d be even more so, if said  hormones weren’t blurring her  judgment and  rational. like  making  her peel her lips away to start moving them up the pale expanse of rory’s neck and having her stomach twist up over rory’s sharp gasp, but  doing so  only because her girlfriend had started moving her hands under her shirt and up along her sides to  play with  the band of her bra.

they have to stop. she knows this. her body’s all warm and she’s trying to remember to keep an ear for the horn of the jeep whilst debating pulling rory’s hips closer into hers – until suddenly rory yanks herself back, leaving paris blinking against the sudden light and trying to come back to reality.

‘we have to stop.’ rory says, eyes squeezed shut, her guilt and disappointment mixing together ‘she could walk back in any second. also, I’m starting to feel guilt in the back of my throat..’

‘alright, me too..’ paris admitted, shuffling up so rory could slide back ‘plus, I’m sure if we went on any longer red lips would give us away anyway – and the only thing worse then angering your mother, is the potential teasing we’d have to endure if she saw that..”

rory immediately presses her lips together to hold in a laugh, cheeks managing to go pinker then they already were. still, a smile at the whole thing managed to leak out the sides. the whole thing was kinda funny when you thought about it. paris can’t hold back either and lets out a half-scoff-half-laugh, also smiling. they sit there, holding in their smiles, bashful eyes flitting back and forth from each other, unsure of what it was exactly that you say to someone after  this.

finally rory broke the air by leaning into paris – and giving a quick kiss to her cheek, almost comically chase in respect to what was just going on. and yet, it sends a jolt right through paris all the same, ducking down to hide her smile.

rory then slides off the bed, moving to the mirror and dresser with it’s pot of hairclips and ties. back on the bed, paris tries to find where her head is. her body is still thrumming hot and her heart might as well be running laps. she’s a weird mix of hazy and sitting on cloud nine. 

she clears her throat and throws her legs over the side, sitting up properly. she doesn’t know what to do with her hands; her fingertips felt like they were still on fire. there’s a burning over her stomach and it’s the shape of where rory had placed her hand. 

she’s overwhelmed because her head is still running away with her girlfriend, heartbeat sounding a lot like  _roryroryrory_ over and over –

paris glances up to the brunette. she’s got her hair piled up behind her head, trying to tie it together. her hands are still a little shaky too, not willing to wrap around the clip. paris smiles watching her do one of the most mundane thing. sometimes, just looking at her, made her feel soft and a kind of happy that was previously unfamiliar, but that she was becoming good friends with it. she may not understand totally all the ways rory makes her feel, but she does know she loves them. 

rory’s  sweater, paris sees, is a little too small on her. so as she’s reaching up above her head to wrangle her hair, the hem lifts up to reveal a sliver of her bare stomach. paris can’t keep from staring. she has an inexplicable urge to run her lips over it. just the thought made her red cheeks redder then they already were. 

while failing to push those thoughts away, she suddenly feels something sticky at the corner of her mouth. she runs her thumb along the top corner of her lips, catching the substance slathered there. furrowing down at the pinkish sticky stuff, she realizes it’s a bit of rory’s lipgloss.

the wheels starts, inevitably and without prompting, churning in her head. paris looks back at rory – the exposed skin she just wants to kiss, the lipgloss literally smeared over her, the  _girl_ she’s so head over heels for and how it never felt this good with any  ~~ body ~~ guy –

all at once, it was as clear as a sunny day. 

‘I’m a lesbian.’ paris blurts her realization. rory, brow high, spins her head to her girlfriend.

‘...well I’m so glad _now_ was the time you figured that out..’

‘sorry.’ paris tries, furrowing and unfurrowing at the carpet below ‘I just..I was watching you and, out of nowhere, it was _so obvious..’_

‘..well, I was about to tell you a picture lasts longer.’ rory quips, taking her hands out of her hair to go over and sit next to paris ‘..what’re you thinking..?’ 

‘I’m not sure – I think I was more hit over the head. I realized that..I’ve never felt like this towards anyone, including guys. and, sure this is my first and so far only relationship, but even in the beginning when I was crushing on you..nothing felt like this.’

‘ _..ever?’_

paris nods.

‘..what-what about bisexual?’ rory posed, head tilting to the side ‘or tristan?’ 

‘tristan was a _lie.’_ paris rolls her eyes at the idea, at _him,_ now ‘..as was being bisexual, I suppose. heterosexuality, it was just always something I felt like I had to do, or be. every girl gets a crush on a guy, so I simply picked the most conventional, ken-doll looking guy I could find, and just...decided to have feelings for that one.’

‘well, that actually makes a lot of sense as to why you’d like someone like _that.’_

‘ _ugh.’_ paris groans, receiving a chuckle ‘but..with you, with..girls, I..I never thought about it until I finally opened the door to the possibility of liking them...and I..I _get it_ now. before, I thought liking someone was more of a compliance thing then a feeling. it explains why I always argued that the nothing I felt was simply me being too mature for romance and boys being too stupid. now, it’s..it’s..’ she sighs, eyes rolling back ‘it’s concerning that this is the best metaphor I can come up with, but it’s like someone finally turned on the light –’

rory almost smiles watching paris grasp the imaginary switch in the air, flicking it up.

‘– you know..?’ 

‘I think so.’

‘let me put this in terms you can understand..’ paris shuffles towards her, straightening up to mean business ‘you know that film _wizard of oz?’_

‘I do..’ rory squints with a bit of suspicion ‘..how do _you_ know that movie?’

‘everybody knows that movie. and I know it because of course, the one and only time my mother ever tried to bond with me, she showed me it and promptly scared me with nightmares of mean, apple throwing trees and creepy crows in the equally creepy woods where witches lived.’

‘not to be mean but a movie with special effects from the _30’s_ really scarred you that bad?..”

‘I was _five years old_ alright – look, it doesn’t matter. do you remember that scene after judy garland is swept up by the tornado and she lands in oz, stepping out from having no colour into a full blown rainbow spectrum of colour, if you excuse the irony..’

‘it’s like that?’

‘pretty much exactly.’

‘..alright, I get it.’ rory finally allows a smile, though just for a second ‘..so that’s it then? you’re gay?’ 

‘I guess.’ paris shrugs ‘I mean, I’m sure there’ll be more coming I have to deal with, or fully realizing that at some point it will probably _have_ to be mentioned to my parents. but..yeah, I think that concludes it. I just..this sounds hard to believe from the outside, but..I _know_ it’s right. it feels right. like, this is how it’s suppose to be..’

rory didn’t say anything. instead she kept grinning away at paris. 

‘what?..’ 

‘you’re beaming.’ 

paris stalls, head coming down to hide her red cheeks ‘yes, well, I guess it’s nice to finally have a better understanding of yourself. and god, finally, I don’t ever have to pretend again to like any imbecile boy, thank  _christ.’_

she feels a forehead press into her shoulder, giggling against. paris glances over, brow raised. 

‘I mean, no offense to you I suppose, if that’s still the way you want to go..’ 

‘s’ok.’ rory leans up, shaking off her laughter ‘and yeah, I think so. how I feel about liking guys hasn’t changed, in that I still do. but now, also girls too – or, more specifically, you really..’ 

‘well I appreciate the honour of being put ahead of buffy..’ 

‘ _ha ha.’_

‘but good – even if you’re not ready to don rainbows and project your gayness, at least the period of confusion is over..’ 

‘well, so far anyway..’ 

‘so far?’ paris perked. that was the most rory ever mentioned of putting her sexuality into the light – and honestly, roughly seven months in, they were due for some progress.

‘you mean there’s no more clinging onto the closet doors?’ 

rory half-way rolls her eyes, gaze down as she starts to scrape off her peeling nail polish ‘well I mean..– it’s not like I’m going to make buttons or, no matter how many times mom asks, allow her to put stickers on the jeep –’

‘of course she’s asking that..’

‘– but, uh, I-I was you know, scrounging around the internet the other day and did you know they actually have a gay book store in hartford? I don’t think it’s very well known but, apparently, they actually sell gay literary magazines and fiction. so um, if you want, I thought it might be cool to check it out – just..one day, whenever you want..’ 

‘rory.’ 

the brunette looks up, surprisingly nervous, bordering on hopeful. paris was grinning. looks like she was finally getting the courage to step out from that cramped, shameful space. 

‘absolutely.’ 

it was too sweet, how she lit up. 

‘really? okay, cool. I wrote the address down somewhere, here..’ 

she leans over the footstop of her bed, grabbing her bag. paris watched her unzip it, pulling out a notebook, eyes eventually distracted by the  buffy  pin  still  clinking against. she scoffed, drawling, 

‘you know, if you actually do make buttons the next one needs to say _I’m bisexual, ask me how!’_

a second of silence, and rory snorts, loudly. she looks back to the blonde, blues sparkling in amusement and  smiling wildly. paris didn’t think it was that funny, but watching rory, there was no holding back from her own smile, brow arching back at rory’s who eventually said with surprised delight,

‘..you made a joke.’ 

‘yeah?’

‘a joke, or more really a pun, based on a popular tv show.’

‘what’s your point gilmore?’

rory sits up, scooting closer. she props an arm over her knee so she could rest her chin on her palm, grinning to the point she could burst. 

‘..looks like I’m starting to rub off on you.’ 

‘what, so I was incapable of making any before I met you?’

‘no, it was just more...sharp wit then an actual _funny,_ because, I’ll be honest, despite being very clever with words, I’ve never seen you tell a joke that didn’t flop.’

despite rory being kind of right (paris was not known for her humour, and in the rare times she’s tried her hand at a joke under the pressure to be more ‘friendly’, it’s only ever frightened people more then appeasing them), paris’s disgruntled look only made rory laugh more. her brow goes up, lips curling. 

‘I’d watch your words gilmore, less I have to make you eat them..’ 

‘or what? what else could you possibly do to me that you haven’t already tried –’

paris cuts her off with a kiss. rory inhales sharp, then exhaling soft  after falling against her. paris kissed her languidly, hand wrapping steadily around her waist. slowly, rory’s palm slid over her cheek, and paris can feel herself smiling instantly. when she pulls away, rory’s not as dazed as earlier, but the half-lidded eyes said something. 

‘..ha.’ paris gloats, smirking ‘now, rory, I suggest we look at these notes you wanted to go over because at this rate, we’re never going to get anything done.’

-

paris has been having a much better time since  coming to her realization.

living life as a lesbian was  _much_ easier, much better, then the heterosexual cut-our she was trying to fit herself into. or, maybe it’s just easier when you know your sexuality. she never really saw how much that part makes up who you were until she understood it.

paris always knew who she was and what she wanted. that was the only place where she’d faltered. 

now, she was more at home in herself then ever.

it was just such a  _relief,_ a coming home when she hadn’t even known she was lost. now, she could stop pretending that she had any interest in the lives or personalities of dull boys or dread the day she was going to have to be with one. that’d been a sore on her back for quite some time. 

however, it was horrendously hilarious that after she’d stopped bothering to put attention into liking boys in hopes the wires would finally connect and spark, was when they wanted to start paying attention to  _her._

tristan had noticed that over the months,  that  the two girls who were at each other’s throats supposedly over him (or at least, he would  narcissistically think so) had suddenly dropped their attention to him like the little he meant.

and honestly, even he couldn’t argue that he had rory’s attention before any of this happened. so, that left him to traipse after paris to hopefully gain back that attention he’d been once getting (no matter how hollow it’d actually been).

paris has been taking her texts from her locker to sort them in her bag when the door is slammed shut. she jumps away, blinking up at the ken-doll lookalike now  leaning casually beside, grinning down at her. 

‘oh joy.’ she deadpans. 

‘paris geller,’ tristan greets, the way he says her name making her gut curl and hair stand up ‘what’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing all alone?’

‘oh, it can’t _possibly_ be because I’m focusing on my studies..’ paris growls, stuffing her last text in; he didn’t appear to have a response to that so she glances up, making no mistake to hide her barring teeth ‘..whatever you have to say tristan, say it now and in as little words as possible less my brain melt out my ears from listening too long.’ 

paris appreciated the falter at that, the slip of the gross smirk. but he was quick to regain it.

‘well, as it happens, I’ve got no one to accompany me to tyler price’s party tonight – you know, the pool party he’s having while his parents are gone..’ he’s pretending to be faux-chalant which only irks paris more ‘so, before I spread this to the other girls who’ve already asked, I thought I’d formally give the invitation to you..’ 

her brow very well raises up on it’s own, arms folding. he’s looking far too confident after just having verbal knives throws at him and paris knows it’s because he thinks he’s so irresistible to any woman walking this green earth. she  almost  wants to  outright  punch the smugness off his face but sadly she knew better. 

‘you’re asking if I want to go be your eye-candy for the night and watch you and your friends get as wasted as possible while having conversations with the depth of a kiddie swimming pool? _tough_ but I think I’d have a more interesting night going home to watch paint dry.’ 

violence proved not to be necessary as the smugness drops right off. he’s flabbergasted and silent for all of seven wondrous seconds and paris nearly starts grinning in triumph. unfortunately he’s dumb enough to keep trying, grin coming back and giving a laugh as if this was paris’s attempt to flirt and  _not_ her blaring a warning sign in his ear.

‘alright, I get it,’ he chuckles, leaning over closer and paris nearly hisses ‘you put up a good fight paris, but I think it’s time to stop playing cat and mouse and admit to some things..’

this time, she had to physically resist from punching. 

‘well listen to this – if I could drill it through your head that I wouldn’t touch you with a fifty foot prod I _would.’_ she’d stood up on her toes now, a stare-down that made him lean back a bit ‘so I’d stop barking up the wrong tree and go ask girls who’ve yet to grow into their smarts.’

‘hey.’ 

there’s a sudden hand on her back, paris spinning to spot a familiar  blue and a  smile that immediately fizzles out any reminders of who she was talking to. 

‘ready for lunch?’ rory asks her. 

‘ _please.’_ paris sighs, zipping up her bag. tristan, who’d bounced back from his ego wound, points the grotesque grin to rory. 

‘gilmore,’ he smooths, eyeing her up and down ‘..you got any plans this weekend?’

‘she doesn’t want to go with _you.’_ paris threatens.

‘I think she can decide for herself.’ he hits back, dropping his facade ‘might as well try, since I’ve forgotten you’ve permanently got a stick up your ass.’ 

paris is too busy seething to notice the way rory inwardly bristles. instead, she steps ahead, perfecting the disguise of an innocent smile. 

‘well I much as I appreciate that offer, I don’t think going on a date with you is going to do wonders in my relationship.’

panic hits paris like a semi-truck. thankfully for her though, tristan is so thrown that he didn’t even see the gaping look she was wearing before she  had to hide it. 

‘y-you’re seeing someone?..’ he blubbers, arms folding as rory nods ‘who..who is he?! what’s his deal??..’

‘mm, smart, sharp, gorgeous, getting the highest grades in his school and has plans to become a doctor. _and_ he’s not someone who degrades girls, my friends, or isn’t swimming in enough desperation that he has to find the next available female with a pulse because the first told him no. sorry you’re out of options but there just might be someone willing to put up with your _thrilling_ conversations among your other male friends on which girl has ‘gone the farthest’ and smog of cologne layers you have on, because I think we’re gunna sit this one out.’

rory could’ve whipped the rug from underneath his feet and he would’ve crashed softer. the gobsmacked look made paris’s jab from earlier look like a papercut. paris is trying to hide her grin but she doesn’t think she’s doing a good job. with that, rory throws another easy-breezy smile, hand on paris’s wrist to start leading them away. 

they leave him there to blubber, merging into the crowd. paris is gathering words for what she wants to say to rory after  _that_ , but is coming up with very little  between her outright pride and delight.

‘..you spoke very highly of that boyfriend gilmore,’ she quips, smile leaking out the sides ‘must be quite something..’ 

‘oh you know..’ 

rory leans in discreetly so the crowd doesn’t see her lock her pinky with paris’s.

‘I’m fond of him...’ 

-

paris doesn’t think she’s ever seen a person so thrilled in her entire life. 

rory had been bugging her to go to her house for forever.  _c’mon par, we’re always at my house; surely we’re due for a switchup._

paris didn’t understand where the burning desire came from. her place wasn’t anything special, and they always had a good time at the gilmore’s. paris liked rory’s house; it was warm and welcoming, a clear better choice then her house, which was cold and far too empty and lonely. plus, she didn’t ever want to risk running into her parents with rory at her side and potentially tipping them off on  _anything,_ or even having her nanny smother rory as the only friend paris has ever really brought over.

it wasn’t until she was crossing through the hall by the grandeur geller library, that the idea popped in her head.

she started by telling rory she had a surprise for her, which excited her plenty. she didn’t particularly like it when paris made her close her eyes and be blindly led up the many staircases, but she was quieted by the promise that it’d be worth it.

and it  was. not only for rory who nearly fell back at the stacks and stacks of books covering the whole room; some new and pristine and glossy, others older with antique pages dating back to a date even paris didn’t know, some tiny and some  encyclopedia-thick,  all across various languages – whatever it was, her father had managed to collect it. 

but it was for  _sure_ worth it to see rory light up like a fireworks display, delightfully gobsmacked as she took in the massive room. paris couldn’t help but grin at the light dancing from the blue eyes, how she spun and spun trying to look at them all. she was very well vibrating and it was disgusting how cute it was. 

‘ _paris, oh my god..this-this is so incredible! how..how are there so many, and they look like they date,_ _geez,_ _I can’t even imagine how far..’_

‘ _well it is vast; a lot of the books are passed down, from my father’s father and then his father and so forth. others are ones my father has bought and barderd for, as they’re first editions or rare publishings..’_

‘ _it’s amazing. it’s..it’s like – you know this is the dream right?!’_

‘ _the dream?..’_

‘ _the dream! to have just a huge library and fill it with as many books as you please until you have so many piles you could be smothered and your hearts so happy you could burst!’_

‘ _well, I had a feeling you’d like it..’_

‘ _even worth making me close my eyes to climb all those stairs. you said there’s some first editions?..’_

‘ _a fair amount. I know we have some third editions of some shakespeare plays, possibly some collections of sonnets, and then there’s some first editions of whitman and_ _frost_ _poetry –’_

‘ _what?! are you kidding?!’_

‘ _I’m guessing you’d like to see them..’_

rory can’t even give her a quip back because she’s too busy pulling at paris’s sleeve over to the shelf and making the blonde grin.

they’d sucked up an hour combing the stacks, paris wheeling rory along on the ladder and not thinking she could possibly get more excited looking at the worn, antique pages until they went and looked at the  _next_ book where she’d squeal all over again. it took some time, but after a while, rory content with the pile she’d pulled, they sat down on the leather furniture, her with some homework and rory awing her new collection. she’s trying to edit but occasionally she’s pulled away, glancing over to watch her girlfriend beam as she traced a finger over the faded words.

paris is only sixteen and there’s no saying this’ll ever last but she knows right now, watching her, that she’d work till her fingers were bloody so rory could have as many books as could fill  her heart with.

she’s half-way through editing, debating on  whether to take this sentence or not, or maybe just ask rory about it, when the brunette peeps up from her side of the couch. something about the weekend and lorelai organizing a movie marathon and does she wanna come?

‘can’t.’ paris sighs, streaking a red line through the sentence ‘my birthday’s the saturday, so I –’

the booklet, and therefore her essay, is violently ripped from her hands. 

‘ _what?!’_

paris blinked back, honestly so startled she couldn’t quite react right away. once it clicked in she furrowed and swiped her book back.

‘what?!’

‘what-what do you mean it’s your birthday?!..’ rory demanded ‘..you..you never mentioned –’

‘well it might come to surprise you rory, but birthdays are actually a yearly event –’

rory pinches her in the arm. 

‘ow!’

‘and you didn’t think it was at all important to tell me?!’ 

‘well frankly, what’s the point?!’

‘ _what’s the point_ – well, don’t...don’t you guys do something?..’ 

‘no! I mean, my parents take me to the restaurant in the country club where we have dinner and don’t talk. well, my father spends all his time either bickering with my mother or picking on the waiter, and my mother, because it’s where all the other wives go, spends her time gossiping with them about the neighbours and who’s rumored to have slept with who.’

‘and what do you do?’ 

‘pretend that I like caviar and that my dress isn’t uncomfortable and itchy when it always is.’

‘that sounds awful. I mean, for any day, and then there’s the double whammy of it being your birthday..”

‘it isn’t always awful. they give me a hundred dollars so they don’t have to think about getting a present and my nanny makes me my own cake like she has every year, all from scratch.’

rory doesn’t say anything but her nose is all scrunched up, brow pushed together in what paris can only assume is displeasure.

‘..don’t give me that look.’ 

‘what look?’

‘that my life is so sad.’ paris grumbles, scribbling out some more lines with slightly more pressure now. 

‘I’m not – okay, look,’ rory shuffled up straighter on the couch to face paris, elbows on knees and propping her chin on fists ‘I just think you should be doing something you actually like on your birthday. so, why don’t we do something?'

paris is immediately, right off the bat, wary. she drew back slightly, eyes forming squints. 

‘….like what?..’ 

‘what do you mean ‘like what?’ why are you looking at me like that?’

‘with you gilmore, that kind of incentive could mean anything. so what have you got up your sleeve?’ 

rory snorted, making one eyebrow draw up in amusement ‘only you would think a birthday party is some kind of trick.’

‘I don’t _want_ any kind of party. it’s not a big deal, alright?’ 

‘it doesn’t have to be! what about just dinner, you me and mom; we can even stay in town for it, go to luke’s or whatever.’ 

paris shifted, unsure. she knew rory wasn’t going to let this go. not for a birthday, anyway. even if she said no, there’s no doubt rory would find a way to celebrate it somehow. better to just agree to something she knew about, that she could control. 

‘fine.’ paris huffed ‘but _just_ a dinner alright, nothing more.’ 

‘perfect!’ 

‘and no gifts.’ 

‘what?! you have to have gifts!’

‘no, no gifts! I don’t _want anything_ alright?! it’s a waste of your guys’ money.’ 

‘you’re not a waste of money.’ 

‘ _rory.’_

‘alright, fine.’ 

‘and no cake either.’

‘ _what_ – alright, there’s no gifts, but I draw the line at no cake!’ 

‘who’s birthday is this gilmore?!’

‘why no cake?! what did the delicious dessert ever do to you??’ 

‘I just don’t want it! my nanny will already make me one and I don’t want it to be a big deal – and god forbid we get a cake and your mother gets someone to jump out of it or something, I’m not having that.’ 

‘okay but you cannot _not_ have any dessert on your birthday. what about ice cream? we can go after to the self-serve place; no singing and candles, no one jumping out of it, totally safe.’ 

‘hmph, fine.’ 

‘cool.’ rory started smiling, already seeming excited ‘sunday then. is five okay?’

‘five, sure, if I must..’ 

‘great.’ she half scoffs, half laughs, watching the blonde furiously make notes ‘thank you for amusing me..’ 

‘aren’t I always..’ paris drawled, very well hearing rory’s jaw drop. she let her lips curl up the side, eyes going up to her girlfriend. rory was trying to give her a mean look but the lips pressed together to try and swallow her smile gave her away.

the rest of the day goes on smoothly and uneventful, but later, paris can’t help but dwell on her agreement. 

_a gilmore made birthday party. this should be something._

-

the birthday actually came up faster then she expected.

the saturday is a regular saturday for the most part, and her nanny does make her the cake with the custom homemade frosting, which is always the highlight. in the evening she puts herself through the torture of the fancy dress, and the too-long-of-a-time it takes to do her hair. suffers the silent car ride and the traipsing through the country club, saying hi to every family and pretending they’re friends. where they sit and her father orders lobsters for the three of them even though paris has never liked shellfish, and he asks his mandatory two to three questions on how well she was doing in school and what her grade average is. paris tells him she’s getting a’s and has the highest average like always, appeasing him so that he doesn’t bother speaking to her for the rest of the night. her mother, though, leans into her, asking for every grade she’s getting for each class, how she thinks she’s doing in those clubs,  _stop slouching over,_ doesn’t she have any friends she should be seeing, what about the boys because she should  _be looking at future prospects._ paris tries to answer them as her fingers curl white-knuckled into her palm and she tries to breathe  clearly, until finally, the dinner arrives. 

and then the rest of the night is silence. kinda weird to be grateful for it, when it’s the sort that makes you feel the coldness in the air and the argument that’ll brew later once they’re done eating.

the one highlight, was rory calling. she calls during the dinner and does honestly feel bad for interrupting, but paris quickly cuts it off with a  _please, you couldn’t have fulfilled a better birthday wish._ she gets to sneak away to the washroom, hunkered down in the stall and parents blessedly left behind to bicker because dinner is done and they’ll have nothing left to do except dig into each other like always. she’ll have to return to them after, but for the moment, rory offers the respite of a conversation that doesn’t have the stilted silence and she laughs when paris goes on about the ridiculousness of the pearson family and does the wife really think everyone in this vicinity cares about her award-winning rose bushes?! when she gets back, her parents are still ignoring her but at least there was a moment to breathe. 

and tomorrow to think about.

driving to stars hallow for five, she was a bizarre mix of excited and anxious. spending time with the gilmores would always be good – it was just whatever those two had brewing had her concerned.

she’d been instructed to go to the gilmore house, rather then into town. something about how all of them should go together, even if it made more sense to paris to just go to the diner. whatever. 

she pulls up on the dot this time; not too behind, but not too far over. a success. she spots rory right away. she was sitting on the front porch steps for some reason, perhaps to keep a look out for paris, knees drawn up and book propped against them to pass time.

paris had been very strict about casual; this was not a big deal, and she’d already done the dress up thing. plus it was a bit too late into  november for dresses, so rory’s donning a fairly nice, white cotton sweater, the collar dipping down to expose her shoulders slightly. jeans on, she’d also pinned her hair up, the dark locks kept together with a navy scarf tied around. sitting under the yellow light, dressed in her sweet girl-next-door outfit, paris thinks it should be impossible to look that good while looking so effortless. 

‘did I not emphasize casual dress gilmore?!’

her head shot up, smiling when she spots paris exiting the car. she closes her book and gets up, stepping down to meet paris who was making her way up. 

‘well, I _was_ thinking of wearing that old, hand-me-down sweater from mom with the mustard stain on it.’ rory tells her, arms folding good-naturedly ‘but, I didn’t wanna show you up at your own party so..’ 

paris scoffs, allowing herself a smile. she can’t stop staring at the scarf nestled perfectly in dark hair and the sweater that seemed to match rory exactly, the whole softness of it. 

‘you look beautiful.’ paris blurts out. she watches rory fight back a smile. 

‘..you don’t look so bad.’ she teases, slipping her fingers around paris’s ‘c’mon, mom is ready to get this thing started; I already had to convince her not to tie balloons to the car. twice.’

despite that warning, paris would see there wasn’t much she had to worry about. lorelai greets her with a hug, insinuating that she had  _big_ plans for this birthday thing. they drive over together in the jeep, and those plans, as it unfolded upon arrival, were convincing luke to make breakfast for dinner.

they set up camp in the table they’d reserved, and had stacks and stacks of pancakes, enough to feed a small army. it became an art project when they broke out the plastic packets of peanut butter and jams, smothering it between layers of the cakes and drowning them in syrup. they talk and it’s easy, laughter circling the diner paris once called grossly simple and cliché but had had come to love from many after-school-study-sessions, lorelai stealing pieces off of rory’s plate and rory stealing off of paris’s. she couldn’t find it in her to care, though lorelai keeps calling to luke to supply their demand as they ran through their food and  _even though_ he keeps saying this was the last batch and he’s cutting them off, there’s more on the table anyway. but it doesn’t stop him from grumbling everytime he sets the plate down.

‘ _I still can’t believe you got luke to do this.’_

‘ _I’d have to say the same..’_

‘ _t’was not an easy task. the man is as rigid as the bowl with day old dried cereal you leave to wash in the sink.’_

‘ _well I promise lorelai, it’s well appreciated.’_

‘ _hey, you only turn the age of the dancing queen once. gotta live it up.’_

‘ _what?..’_

‘ _abba, par.’_

‘ _the band?’_

‘ _yeah! young and sweet, only seventeen –_ only, _so use this time wisely kid.’_

‘ _right. I’m mostly thinking about only having one more year until I can vote, but I’ll keep that in mind too.’_

finally, they’d broken through the rest of the pancakes, putting it to a close. with that done, paris figured they’d be leaving to get ice cream now (not like she had room in her stomach for any more, but she knows those two are on a whole other playing field), so if that’s the case she wants to go see if she can get out this syrup stain she accidentally got on her pants –

until she tried to get up and rory grasps her wrist to shove her down.

‘what?!’ 

‘you can’t go yet.’ 

‘why?!’

‘because.’ 

‘because _why?’_

‘because.’ 

‘ _for the love of –_ I just want to get the syrup off my jeans!’

‘you have to do that right now?’ 

‘before it sets, _yes.’_

‘c’mon, you can’t wait another minute?’ 

‘for _what?!_ what are you trying to do gilmore?!’

‘nothing!’ 

‘don’t bullshit me!’

‘swear! it’s just, I mean, hasn’t anyone told you it’s rather rude to leave in the middle of your own party?’ 

‘ _rory I swear –’_

‘lorelai?!’ 

luke’s booming voice cut them off, all heads to where he stood off the counter, scouting for them as he held – 

yes, a piece of birthday cake. with an active sparkler in it. 

of course. 

the gilmores were happy and smug even with her look of annoyance, hiding her smile as she was handed the cake through the happy birthday chorus. it didn’t stop her from throwing a dirty look to rory after though.

‘rory –’

‘hey, I had to break one of the rules at least!’ she defended, throwing up her hands ‘just be glad I didn’t pick presents instead.’

paris sighs at that, watching sparks dance off her dessert ‘well I guess thanks are in order..’

‘almost,’ lorelai said, squinting out the window ‘I don’t know what happened, but it looks like the table-top dancers are running late and the brigade –’

‘ _lorelai –’_

‘ _joking_ kid – god, you went three different shades of white, please don’t pass out on us.’ 

it was strawberry cheesecake and not in anyway half bad; luke may be a grump but he knew his way around food, paris will give him that. she lets the gilmores squabble over the side of ice cream, hiding her laugh as they attempt to split the melting dessert into two. finally, that was done, and paris could breathe a sigh of relief that there were (probably) no more surprises, even if they had to head out now. though no matter how much she fought, lorelai refused to let her pay her own half; she didn’t know what to do with the kindness, as she often didn’t with lorelai, but she was very grateful for it. 

so, sure, she’d been pessimistic about the whole thing, not assured the duo could pull a birthday together without balloons or candles or _singing_ candles. thankfully for her they’d opted out, though not without some of the traditions rory said were uncompromiseable – somehow, she’d had the most amazing time.

‘you have to know,’ she turns to rory beside her as they walk back to the car ‘this was probably the best birthday I’ve ever had..’ 

pink lips starting pulling up at the corner, brow following ‘probably?..’ 

‘alright, best. happy?’

the smile grows bigger, white sweater shoulder  bumping into hers ‘very..’ 

of course, things can’t go off without a snag. 

they get into the jeep and there wasn’t the normal start-up rumble of a car engine when lorelai turns the keys. rather, it made a terrible stalling noise, the engine chugging but ending in a flop. she turns it a couple more times for the same thing to happen.

‘oh..no..’ came the whisper from upfront. 

‘what?..’ rory leans over from the backseat. 

‘okay, you know how the other day I said how the car was making weird noises –’

‘– like something was stuck in it’s throat, yeah..’

lorelai gestures around vaguely. great. 

thankfully, this town seems to have a universal distress system. in no time, friends had gathered to poke around and provide solutions (no matter how very, very wrong they were like that guy kirk suggesting to turn it on and off again) and luke had called the mechanic. good, because paris was distressed about the hour she still has to drive back and she has to be at school early tomorrow, a calming rory assuring _you’ll be able to make it to student council par._

some time after that, a short, dark-haired, tough-around-the-edges woman with a toolbox came round, who looked under the hood  whilst scolding lorelai for not bringing in the problem sooner  _(‘that’s the mechanic?? christ, your town just gets weirder by the second.’)._ it was fixable, but not tonight. the jeep had to be left in the shop. not the best answer for the now stranded women, getting lorelai to snoop out for a ride home – and heading right back into the diner.

luke is more then happy to give them a ride back. well, more then happy might not be the right phrase. the guy didn’t seem to be happy about anything really. but lorelai asked and though he grumbled he didn’t even say no, because all it took was her giving him a pleading smile and that was it. lorelai had him around her finger and paris wonders how much she really knew that. another thing to ask rory about later anyway.

the truck was a two seater however. so it took some convincing from rory that, yes, it was safe to stand in the back, the trunk, which isn’t even made for  _people_ she feels is important to point out.  _luke even promised not to fling us off over the speedbumps._ that didn’t stop paris from having jello legs standing up there with rory, one hand desperately grasping onto the top of the truck where the adults sat inside, and the other squeezing rory’s and yelping when they started pulling forward. 

‘ _stop laughing!’_

‘ _I’m not! hey luke, how fast does this thing actually go?’_

‘ _shut up! –’_

you get used to it, after a while. it wasn’t like anyone in this sleepy town drove much faster then your average retiree, and surely luke didn’t want to be the one to blame if he went too fast and two teens came flying off the back. 

it was actually kind of fun. paris starts to relax as they glide over the road, wind wisping by her ears and through her hair, causing a kind of weird elation. a good weird, standing there, shoulder-to-shoulder with rory and smiling beside her. the quaintness of the town, for once, actually made it look  kinda nice. with it’s lit-up lightposts and gazebo, the couples strolling by, and with the music lightly coming from inside the truck and the unexpectedly warm air, it was becoming quite the night. it caused her to feel the kind of lightness she loved, the kind she got around rory.

‘c’mon par,’ rory jostled her, probably noticing the smile ‘who else gets their own special parading carriage through town for their birthday?’

‘if that’s the case, I have to ask if this truck is going to turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.’ 

she guessed it was kinda special though. 

the whole night had been. this entire thing. these past months had made her happier then she’s ever been, her old jaded and angry sad self becoming more and more faded.

she turns to the source.

rory’s staring out at the road ahead, her own smile alight. things started slowing down, the yellow dots of light  in the background  blurring  with  paris able to pick up the reflection over blue eyes, the ends of her hair flowing behind from the wind after she’d taken it down. paris’s own smile starts growing. her rory; beautiful and whip-smart and stubborn and  funny and can quote  _pride and prejudice_ backwards and  who  somehow makes her a better person every time she’s around her. paris is hit right in the chest  with this sudden overwhelming feeling  and her throat tightens up. 

but then it falls right into step. she knows exactly what she feels.

‘rory.’ 

the brunette turns, brow raised and head tilted in question. before even considering what this might do, paris lets her bleeding heart speak first,  _knowing_ rory has to hear  it and has to know – 

‘I love you.’ 

she’s not saying it to hear it back. she’s saying it because rory has to know how much she cares about her, for her. how much of her own heart belongs to her.

however the silence doesn’t make her feel  very assured. things were still slow and she watched blue eyes widen, surprise dawning over. paris starts to feel panic rise in the back of her throat.  _what did_ _you_ _do what did_ _you_ _do what did_ _you –_

but she’s cut off upon seeing, soft and sure, a smile bloom over in response. paris dials down her panic, but doesn’t release her grip entirely. rory still hadn’t said anything. would she say the same back? or even say anything? probably not because paris just decided to randomly ambush her with these feelings so why would she expect a response after having picked the _worst time_ to –

that’s when  rory leans in and closes any space left between. there’s a warm palm suddenly against her cheek and not even knowing it her eyes are closing and rory’s kissing her.

it’s not like there’s a ton of people out on a sunday  night; nor are they paying any particular attention to them. what paris did know, though, was that in stars hallow everybody knew everybody and gossip  was essentially mandated. someone  _would_ see. someone  _would,_ and  will, tell. and rory’s no idiot either, she knows her hometown better then anyone.

and here’s rory kissing her in the open back of a truck as they drive right through the middle of town. 

and immediately, paris  doesn’t even need to have heard the words back to know.

a grin burst over her, so wide she couldn’t even pretend to contain it as she grasps rory’s waist to pull her even closer. and then she feels rory smile wide into the kiss too. and they both knew.

paris doesn’t know where this will go. doesn’t know if this relationship will make it long term or to college or even to the end of this year. she wants rory to be forever and she could end up just being a blip. and that thought scares her, deeply and to her bones. funny though, that in the beginning she was doing everything to drive rory away and now she’d give just about anything to make sure her hand stays in her own. there are too may variables and paris is frightened that she can’t account for them all.

however, right now rory has just told her she loves her. expressed that she loves _her,_ paris geller, the lonely girl who had to act like she was above wanting anyone with how many people found her _too much_ to try. and she, gets one of most amazing and brilliant girls to love back.

so for the first time in possibly ever, with rory’s hand in her own and grin buried in her shoulder as they rode around, she finds happiness crushing down her usual anxiety to allow her to smile back and say, 

_that’s enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I'm not sure how much I love that ending, but I thought showing how Paris eventually came around to letting herself be loved as is was pretty poetic and made for good closure. 
> 
> I'd love to hear everybody's thoughts and chat with y'all, as always ^^ I've got some major life stuff happening (more work shifts, and moving into my first Real Adult apartment) so unfortunately I don't think I'll be having anything come out till February - but stick around for when that comes around!
> 
> Take care of yourself out there! Bye!


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